See
half of I reflected
an unknown whole divorced
unrooted
Whether it be god
the spirit world
the ideal
the good
the unconscious . . .
half of I reflected
umbilically bound
I jump to fly
sound in mind
the choice.
Without the mirror
I am as grass
mowed in mindless haste
and blown away
nothing.
But half of I reflected
whole soul
world dead
I chose
and trod through thick grass
in pleasure.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
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