We gasped, the sig ni-fi er.
We teared then at ourselves tore .
Here, something we can, could and
would touch, taste, hear; at last, see.
Here, something to hold but not
take in. Something, it; it does
not matter. This not this is.
Rather, that. Meaning, at length,
is not an answer. It is
a buckshot splatter painting,
reading, writing, guessing game.
Look, a blue-sky, cloudy day.