eyes

i am all eyes, all eyes,
my very being condensed into two orbs,
too large and heavy for the rest,
and you can't even see the half of them.
two great orbs that hang and swing in the air,
unwieldy, hesitant, not quite supported by their frame,
a bag of clothes not sure how to arrange themselves in form,
knees and shoulders poking out further than expected.
nothing sure.
two great orbs, like so many tea cups,
into which the outside pours in great sloshes that swirl
in a turbulence of unidentifiable forms,
as the orbs swing from person to object to person.
two great cups that don't ever fill up,
but suck the outside right through
and know nothing of where it goes.
how could a cup know.
and the orbs swing and the cups drink in surfaces,
endless surfaces:
shapes and forms that divide into separate units
when the light allows.
divisions and surfaces, units and continuities,
intentions and coincidences,
and how should i know where to draw the line
between one and another?
where does a hand begin and a finger end?