‘Am I changing

Or am I settling in

Between complaint

And commendation?’

Lacking ancestors,

Hollowman, inheriting all,

Becoming nothing on reflection

And even more than all

In due course,

Observes himself thinking while

Nibbling at cloves

His body taps his hand 

on the kitchen counter 

Without him knowing (and 

comma without him knowing 

Let’s eavesdrop upon the chatter)

…the perfect cannot be reached through a series of imperfections. Each part must be perfect. But then there are no parts as a series of perfect parts is wholly perfect. Or there is no perfection. Or there is no reaching. But if there is no perfect end then each moment is perfect in itself. Or there is no perfection. Unless there is one perfect moment. In which case it is surrounded by imperfection and is therefore both perfect and perfection indicating that imperfection might be perfection without perfection ever knowing. Then perfection might be imperfection without imperfection ever knowing. Then perfection might be imperfection whilst considered to be perfection and imperfection might be perfection whilst considered to be imperfection. But what if each perfect moment can be divided into perfect and imperfect? And each imperfect moment in the same way…

We interrupt this flow to let him know 

His hand is tapping on the kitchen counter 

And he should focus on coffee

And jotting down his thoughts