​There’s them and there’s me. I’m looking
Through my clothes to find a clean shirt.
When I got on the Staten Island Ferry,
I didn’t expect it to lurch. Not hurt

But once in a while the wind whips
My cap into the black bay.
I wear my briefcase on my head.
But you were eating in the cafe

Of eternal day. I came close 
To see the sweets, you and your friend
Were drawing some kind of sketch, I stretched
To see a revised West End. 

​A Danville girl has that Danville curl,
She wears her hat on the back of her head
Like high-tone people do. She was given
Her treasures, hidden in a shed.

​Wade into the water. If you open
Your eyes, you can see, blurry, fish.
The rest of the day, recall, breathe,
Free from restraints that impoverish.

​Lines connected my molecules
And the stars. They talked to each other.
The stars in groups of constellations
Became the fathers and the mothers

Of my mitochondria. 
There are stars that are so far
We’ll never see their light.
They smear into feldspar.

They break down and we break down.
I was doing fine until I looked
And noticed that my skeleton
Was gone, my brain was cooked,

Give me the Pleaides smeared on
A slice of black sky. I am
Who I am, I am who I am in light
Of the infinite, I’m the diagram

That’s all that’s left when I behold
A rocket ship in the sky. It takes
Time, but I want to be a part
Of the whole (there are still mistakes).

​Since Darwin’s time, the molecule
Has got so complicated, who can
Tease its tangles out? See
The bright orange orangutan

Crouch then leap from space to space
And puzzle out the universe.
There is a line that flows from heaven
To the clatter in your purse.

Until the threads of clouds will roll
Across the earth, the lamps will blink,
And sitting at your desk, you’ll write
The name of light in black ink.

​The water beats against the ground.
That is the shore. From inner space,
Look for the water or the ground.
All that you can do is erase

The theory of parts. There are
No details. The true view sees more
Into details than details ever
Were. In the dark, the ore

Sparkles with a hundred specks.
They aren’t different from the ore.
And shake the hand of everyone
Who sees the gravel and the shore.