I have just decided:
I don't want to be represented
anymore—
or dissembled
or regretted—only
reflected.
All day, my mind has been
one of the plants
in the garden
which thrust without intent,
then retreat
without haste
as the sun
moves west
from east—
and upstart green leaves (forming
meaningless patterns
of fractals
which seem to endless-
ly stutter and repeat)
having thus far managed,
without any basis
in merit,
to please me
again. And again.
And again.
