Wednesday, January 09, 2013

Haircut (Or, That Thought I Had When I Looked Into The Mirror)

The mirror always looks younger
In the aftermath of a haircut:
Brown strands of time,
No longer hanging from my head
Rather, lying hacked in heaps.
Tufted burial mounds,
Honouring the remains of weeks
This face will never see again.

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After a busy day when confronting admin

 We must all come  Find ourselves And we will all be found Regardless  As the sun finds the morning As breath finds the lungs As I am found ...