A piece of bread,
swelled by floating down this stream till
when the crust bursts at edge of it
resembles both a bird
and when the current turns it;
only the bird’s head.
Even innovative imagery is flawed,
storm tossed tones again miss being defined;
windows of invisibility look out on futility.
Calling something unnamed is still giving it a name.
The bird and the bread continue
unable to modulate its descent,
becomes saturated and the image fades.