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
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