An Eye for an I

An Eye for an I

Fog is what happens when the sky falls

It’s all about clouds, still so

White

And pure.

But nothing changes in the things you can’t see

They’re wrong.

Physicists.

Their wrong:

Nothing is built by observers.

A car crash you cannot see

Is still frayed wires and shattered metal,

Baby seats and a network of belts.

Fog is what happens when the sky falls

And there’s often no way to know

What the wind will do,

How much the Sun will help you see.

Blindness from light is blindness still

And nothing is more exhausting

Than a trail with no foot prints.

Fog is what happens when the sky falls

And it looks beautiful at the time

What does a rainbow look like

When it comes from fire?

You cannot see it,

Because it is in the skin

And deeper places.

You will know it when your blood has voltage

And you will forget that time has a name.

Now try cloud watching from another angle.

Climb some mountains at sea level

You can catch yourself in a trap,

Stay there,

And gnaw on your own bones.

But!

Once you can get past the infinite truth

Of wine glasses, coffee cups,

Meshed fingers.

The hierarchy of bedsheets with

Their ambitions of warmth.

Once you get to the highest of

All places at the same level,

Then you can look at fogs

And try to name their shapes.