PAREIDOLIAS

I wonder if they’re really watching,
could they really do that? –
watching me write,
watching me dance,
watching me rest,
eyes, everywhere only eyes,
eyes in the wooden table top –
that’s where I saw them first,
eyes in the earth, and eyes in the sky,
eyes in the playground,
eyes on the linoleum floor,
eyes on the covers of books,
eyes as we sit around the table,
they watch me when I’m weak,
or when I pray after losing out,
and they watched you too
when you sold your diary,
and they saw us kneeling
in the flower-beds of Notre Dame,
saw, how the many faces of Mary
finally opened up to us,
so maybe this time
you won’t understand me,
for I only wanted to say,
it’s all imagination,
it’s all roads,
it’s all blossoming currents,
all the unending thunder of summer,
a song that plays at the most opportune time,
it’s all security cameras
transmitting us without end.