DARK MATTER

There—

in those dis-

orienting 

little hot 

sun-

white energy blips 

between the quick 

downward 

swishes of eye 

lids

and the equally reflexive 

dissolution 

and 

unconscious 

denial of that

glimpse of 

absolute black—

invisibly 

pushing back 

against 

each 

stubbornly fixed 

last

probable cause

and its 

correspondingly 

capricious

proximate effect—

stuck,

like thick 

eye 

gunk, between 

the end 

of each list-

less and fresh

beautiful daydream

and the subsequent slow 

and hate-

fully mute 

recompilation 

of stale 

mental to-do lists;

there—smug 

in their insidiously 

legal 

universal perpetuity,

fat with the

pride over

their illimitable 

dominion, 

and brazenly 

filling—

to the point 

of ultimate-

ly defining—

the allowable volume

of each

of these

possible places—

there

and forever!

shall sit—

the incredulous

and the 

very last 

as-yet 

unexplained

mysteries left

in all 

modern physics:

the irreducible 

constant,

the little 

trouble we 

laypeople call—our 

expectations.