my conceptions,
a small cardboard box
jammed with reality

till it bursts, and spills over...
open minded?
how could a grain of dust

blowing through infinity
be any other way?
how can a candle

pretend to be a star?
how can the sound
inside the shell call itself

a wave?
how can a blind man
paint the sunset?

my conceptions,
...just a nuisance!

Eric Cockrell

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-conceptions/