Whitty Schism 2/15/14, That thing…

(my mind's continuing verbal wars with itself)

It's like that thing that wasn't 
what I thought it was 
though I was certain that it was

but now I cannot see it 
as I saw it wrongly. 
No matter how hard I try
I cannot now see it 
as other than it is.

It's like that thing 
I thought I saw 
but didn't, 

that thing that wasn't 
what I thought I saw 
but only what it was.


I chew with my brains.
I eat with my eyes and ears.
I shit with my mouth.

Values vary invariably
between us in the
unobserved interval,
an interval forever unobservable.
Our projects extend, expand
and arrive as conjectural junctions
in unknown areas,
constructing images out of us and
construing the air out of our lungs.

I expectorate through 
and despite my skin,
my closest next of kin
and home for all my bones.