The life-of-its-own hunger
that is in me
grows my fingers
and widens my eyes.
My ballooned pupils leave not enough room for
my brain.

Even thought cannot escape a black hole.

It
is the lizard,
the fish,
the ape,
and the billions and billions
in the universe my guts,
labyrinthine viscera
that is also
my brain.

All calling out
in appropriation
or approximation of the voice
that had before
called to them.
That fundamental cry
forgotten
or else changed
and split,
like a wave to a prism.

Echoing forever
are the incessant need
and hunger and pain
that is in the microbe
and the mushroom
the lizard,
the fish,
the ape.