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Sometimes you cannot put a human face
upon the thing at all. You decide
the vision’s blotches have intentions which
produce a generating propagating system
and a strong protective wall. You see sense
in its conglomerate immensity:
the fine organization of a cell: not the chaos
of a random hell. Surely colors hold a clue.
Without meaning, what are you?
upon the thing at all. You decide
the vision’s blotches have intentions which
produce a generating propagating system
and a strong protective wall. You see sense
in its conglomerate immensity:
the fine organization of a cell: not the chaos
of a random hell. Surely colors hold a clue.
Without meaning, what are you?
.
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