I look at a lot of, thousands, of things. I looked
at the beginning of it, it was fine.
One can never cross an undrawn line.
An omelet never made can’t be uncooked.
A fish already eaten can’t be hooked
again, and if offense is genuine,
then giving it to takers? Valentine.
God made the world in just six days, then booked
his lazy sabbath; the thousand million things
I saw and stared and marked as seen and good
exhaust me—no one’s ever had the eyes
that I have; jealous pharaohs, conquering kings
of yore would view my volume if they could,
but they are dead, and blind in their demise.