All is familiar to me.
I walk outside down the grass hill &
See only mirrors reflecting mirrors.
I could go to Cuba
& cast a Santerian shade.
But spirits are my desires unconsummated
When made familiar thro’ mirror positioning.
The World is a place Time made familiar.
However, when a still mirror reveals
The Oblivion in the pits of my eyes,
I shudder with wet bones,
& walk again through the mirrors
Reflecting sparkling mirrors.