“How have you made division of  yourself?”

–William Shakespeare, 12th Night

In order to feel,

I parse the world.

Behind prescription’s

Veiled violence,

I choke out

A staccato song

Into the resonance

Of the reflected world:

I am you— but

I am not you,

no more than the air

Is our breath

Fogging briefly

The silvered glass.

(November 6, 2018)

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