Ii

A reflection is on the white board It’s the shapes of the light fixtures above me But wait? How does this work?! Reflection and shadow try their best to replicate Do they mourn their lack of clarity and unoriginality? Representing your own doubts and questions they’re quick and temporary What’s going to happen next? Red and white and short and fat Filled with air and souls that stitch themselves to one another And If it feels right It isn’t the bodies that are wrapping themselves around eachother You’re looking out for yourself Is there a name for that? In either case are you bound to death? How is it decided which leaves of the summer tree grow first Do they feel fear, watching their branch-mates brown and loose grip on what birthed them? But it’s interesting that he sets up a kind of structure, and it’s an interesting structure