The Domain of the Impossible

Is too grand and too small,
A warehouse of minor
Monstrosities sewn up

From old possible parts
And, even then, mostly
The same few possible

Parts in combination,
Same old, same old, not all—
Wings (bird, bat, butterfly),

Skins (furry, slimy, scaled),
Horrors (nightmares, sea floors,
Physical suffering)

Or joys (true love, free lunch)
And so on and so forth.
Of the unknowable,

Naturally, there’s nothing
Can be said, but you’d think
Of the impossible

At least something could be
Surveyed and sketched. Unless,
You wish it possible

Nothing impossible
Could possibly prevent
That impossible wish.