I come upon a meadow of absolute mirrors, swaying in the breeze.
I lose my Unicorn in the thicket. shave my head with a blade of glass-
and nick the skin of a Pompadour. my candles are Jasmine and Mirth,
I fall asleep where the doubloons pillow. gilding ashes with ash.
lodged in the throat of a dragon, like a sleepwalking flame.

Am I awake when I chrysanthemum?
Or is my umbrella, the rain?