Wherever

And a whenever
it wants,
the mind, it haunts
the sky
and all open spaces
yet it never
finds
a
way
to expand all the way
or move beyond day
and do the
momentary
thing...

so it sits in some spinning spirally space
and spits on itself
to pretend some grace
while I sit laughing
and wonder at the wild,
weird washing
of linguistic lace
that it lays
over the nothing
place.

Oh.
Just in case
it was wondered,
I have all done
and plundered
the perilous
and perfect
or at least the most
present of space.