Inside a plankton cloud,
There are rules to be seen.
Alongside the bombed angels,
Who hide up and in the mist and the fog,
The quality control forgoes
Marble glasses, bend, shift,
A mouse hole, kingdom,
Full of size and strength and white,
Moths flutter around,
Full of air and surprise.
Glass eyed vision, fills the
Cloud with Jesuit conundrums,
That crinkles and keeps on running.
In the bottom of his tummy,
There is a complete tank,
Where green and red collide,
In vase shelf bedrooms, in mazes.
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