You are reading a poem, except you aren't.

 

You are looking at words on a website

And somebody told you that they comprise a poem

And so you think you are reading a poem.

 

You are seeing words on a website, except you aren't.

 

You are looking at thousands of pixels, each one itself an optical illusion

And together they form the illusion of letters and words you recognize

And those letters and words too hold only the illusion of meaning.

 

You are seeing thousands of pixels, except you aren't.

 

Your eyes catch the light radiating off of a screen or reflected off of a page,

And they send signals to your brain, and your brain remembers pixels,

And you tell yourself that you are seeing pixels.

 

You know what this poem is about by now, except you might not.

 

This poem is not about illusion or the futility of expression,

But about how incredible and beautiful it is, that through layers and layers of abstraction,

Through light and pixels and letters and words and preconcieved notions about art,

 

You look at this, and you see a poem.