In the darkroom
of your own solitude
the slowly developing
photographs
of your life
can be recollected
forwards,
as if chronology
were a fugue,
and you
its vigilant timekeeper,
twice removed.
In the darkroom
of your own solitude
the slowly developing
photographs
of your life
can be recollected
forwards,
as if chronology
were a fugue,
and you
its vigilant timekeeper,
twice removed.