No matter how close I look
at my hand,
I'll still be watching it from a distance,
seeing a hand-pattern or nail-pattern,
like galaxies distribute their patterns
under the eye of James Webb

We tend to see patterns,
when, really, there's only a maze of molecules,
atoms and sub-atomic particles

I am a maze in a bigger maze,
appearing in a distance of patterns

This maze in a maze
is a cooperation of energies
by billions upon billions of points and waves
that, in an effort involving the entire universe
and possibly innumerable other universes,
make sure I go defecating when it's time,
like any old ape,
while Glenn Gould hammers away
J. S. Bach's 6 Partitas, BWV 825 – 830,
on his scratchy old piano
his piano stool squeaking on high volume
throughout this country house
in the December dark,
the Earth turning the collar to the cosmic wind