I am not what you see before you;
not an accumulation of maladies,
a stack of slightly injured nerves
and stale ideas passed along
I am something more difficult
a glimmer which I once noticed,
hiding behind the shadow of an eye
keeping tabs on me; trading places
I have an idea I once found
another thing to label I - that labels me I too!
A thing empty yet furnished
decorated with empty walls and cupboards
Which it is, me, or that which does the naming;
may not entirely matter, for both note that
as I select from my life, what matters most is
what I let fill up that space inside me
Another glimpse, the eyeball inside itself
inner but not inside, a landscape not in a place
close by, but out of reach; and sometimes,
no distance between me and myself at all...
11/16/99