I see into a pair of great water level eyes
a form of glass, a gazing upon stone
Not the stone of possibility, not a marble
form waiting to be born
Changes come through flood and drought
or in geological stages beyond my frame.
The galaxy of sight is a delight after it is
cut by a falling sword; it is ten thousand
blades of grass felled for seed
By thousands of unseen mice running below
the table like water and waiting for their food
There is a feast where we sit. I watch neon
fish while my breath, like my sight
Dissipates out the back of this body
floating onto a pasture for the attuned.
a form of glass, a gazing upon stone
Not the stone of possibility, not a marble
form waiting to be born
Changes come through flood and drought
or in geological stages beyond my frame.
The galaxy of sight is a delight after it is
cut by a falling sword; it is ten thousand
blades of grass felled for seed
By thousands of unseen mice running below
the table like water and waiting for their food
There is a feast where we sit. I watch neon
fish while my breath, like my sight
Dissipates out the back of this body
floating onto a pasture for the attuned.