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