Who touched my nautilus?

Who touched my nautilus

Trapped in a jar?

It must be a moon jar

For sun jars have a sun to it

Somewhere in my soul

Somewhere without abstract art

Who's making new thoughts old

I hold the placeholder in my soul

Whom I leased for soft drinks

Who can tell me how can I be perceiving?

Who can tell me anywhere it's the same

Damp places in my soul

Like the last act final call

There's no perceivable end

Only a perceivable you

Like a knowing dream

To start another you

And let you subside

Like you do.

May 2026

By Aran Meredith