About…
The poem is a continuation of the poem
Gwen
.
Book 301 is intended to be a collection of poems by Mike Burr for 2010 with no thematic precept.
Mirror
you look at my games and laugh into your dusty mirror
an idiots joke always seems to please its maker
its makers reflection amounts to little
elusive waif
a sycophant of projection
the insubstantial dynamics of transience
a compromise of light and dark
your thoughts are like no lithograph etched in stone
because you have no rudimentary substance or knowledge
you just think you feel it
think amounts to limitation too
but still wander loosely around the room of knowledge
open its dark furniture and pass through its windows to the skies
sit in your small room
run your dull cold finger across its dusty glass
the mirror
is that your cold self tinkering with dimension
now look behind the speculum
was there another room
another self
hidden in its thin reflected panorama
not for you my dull friend
you must first absorb and copy like a mirror
before you find the secrets of reflection
and some mad day
who knows
you might look into the glass
and in a strange fusion of self and image
you will pass tritely or savagely through its plane
on a tangential line of madness
when rationale has fled the room
you will discover what lies behind the mirror
then you will look at my games
and laughing into your dusty mirror
write the laughter on its surface
you will know the joke is mine
and know the extent of its deception
and the depth of its projection