1.
raise up your head to
what dances above the eyes
time reeling out time
ticking time flapping like film

on my way somewhere else I
stepped into this mirror I
see everthing multiplied; my
eyes to the glass bowl of the world
feet testifying to ages
that came before my
head spinning young voices
the kind you hear
in celebration green as
a cool walk down a summer
street toward the sound of your
voice brother, a razor humming

the smoothness of silver clips
Billy Eckstine humming the
smell of Friday nights as the
daytime of me washes
down the sink as if according
to plan according to your
voice sister, explaining it all

in contralto measures from that solitary
window your steadfast
singing visited on us

you sister, leaving your
floral trace folded in a
Southern way your
beautiful blues your
years of walking add up
to days on our street your
train of petals

you brother, hands still in the caramel
chair at Pomona Street in the barber's
silver world hands free in

lion-play your steps in time your
silent strings playing momentary
music up through tongues and jackets

2.

who's got the keys to
these blind windows

who can see simply because of sight

what if I see myself
scrap iron waiting for a red light
the world passing me by without comment

which burdens
will fix me

which ones do I
set down

what do you make
of me in the mirror now
on my way somewhere

whose prayer is this
painted over ghost words