The World Given to the Reader in Silence

Proof against despair: All the lovely instants,
tesserae forming the image of your time.
Set them with deliberate care, the whole in mind.

When you cross each threshold--the car door
opens, the move from room to room, the shush
of automatic glass at the grocery store--
you are a god, a Janus-self. Look, here
in the vestibule, there are mirrors: You
in infinite repetition, you turned on each
you, a Duchamp you. The illusion of passage
compels us all into the next day, after all:

I see you there, see your mosaic mind.