The door is closed and I see not.
The lines and hues and shapes confused
Are hidden in my darkness. Yet,
More sense is got from Rohrshach’s blots
Than in this tangled angular refuse.
The door’s still closed. Wait. I see what?.
It looks like Waldo smoking pot
With Dr. Seuss? What’s more abstruse
Still hidden there in darkness yet?
Stare on stare I …Now, stairs I spot
With leaden head and mood abused?
A door that’s closed and icy? NOT!
What have we here? An eye? Or, knot?
“Aye, eye not knot,” say I, bemused
Still hidden in a dark mess, lost.
Is that a sea I see? Or moss?
Or marshmallows? A Goldberg kluge?
A door up close? …A-a-a-a-nd, I see naught!
I’m done. Oh, give me one more shot.
Make that a fifth. Art’s better stewed.
A deer – in clothes? Canned Hi-C? Nuts?
Awls? Hidden there in dark nests?! …Yachts!?