The infinity pool is unbounded
of course and of course
expression itself in the double
description of its single point,
the fisherman’s wet net flung
to catch irregularities of the sea—
our Aegean has never been emptier!
The gold light bends the gold wave
on the tear beading on the lash
where a pencil has left its gash.
We cannot look too closely
at anything (that can’t look back),
without understanding to death
matter not worth knowing or love
or faded images resolved into
a moiré of inconsequence.
We confront the one artist,
questioning his portraiture—
all these faces deftly drawn
by an artist drawing himself.
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