Space, and space again, is the
infinite deity which surrounds
us and in which we are
ourselves contained.
                             — Max Beckmann

thru two human eyes i see
the space between things & render
my judgement in the human air.
the catalogue of deformities i assume
as my own:

the gray man walking five mongrel dogs
on five leashes against the light
in rescue mission clothing

the mottle-nosed unemployed spindle
technician from the pilot mill,
a gold hoop in his ear gleaming
gleaming against his purple skin

the 80 year old infant w/ fox eyes
& starvation cheekbones peddling
a battered american flyer

the curly haired shepherd of beers
in his quilted orange ski jacket

the inverted eyes of the early beauty
in her cheap white coat resembling
a mythic llama

the anglo-saxon poolroom pimp
w/ manicured hair & pasta complexion
strutting in the smoke-filled air of his dreams

my own face beat like a bent fender
by a celestially clumsy mechanic

i try to set perception on a scale,
one eye weighing a heavier ounce
than the other or one slick,
the other terse, jagged . . . submitted
to a periphery in the definite air.
the space between the spaces between,
empty as the eyes of god or a fashion model
& w/ the same congenital smile
hovering in the tree & brick ladened air.