There’s so much I don’t want to know
As I look beyond the Milky Way.
Black holes are the eyes of a crow,
Unblinking, thinking an idee
Fixe: “I see therefore I am an eye.”
What happens to what eyes swallow?
(I don’t want to know, or do I?)
I can’t see a Nothing beyond
The event horizon, but a wand
Beheld by the eye of my hand
Blindly writing an & —
Or, glass orbs with just one side
Tinted with silver iodide:
There, where crows’ ideas reside.
