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.