Mirror, Mirror

I don’t know what frames me
Or how I lean.

I can’t see myself.

When you look at me,
you see only you.

If you want the truth,
look at me.

Can you say what force contains me?
I will tell you what I see.

You in the room wearing red,
White scarf, blue jeans, black vest.

You have a body this week.
You are pacing.

Glancing at air with friends.
No more. No less.

I don’t know what you are writing.

Whatever it is,
It is not about me.

2014

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How a Book Becomes Lascaux

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A Mile in Me