world sees me in the mirror
one face looking back
the final confrontation
where to part my hair
how to coordinate
this hand with that hand
what should I say
if I could explain
to the mirror
“this is the way it is”
or at least appears


pattern of a pattern
oil in a street puddle
you find a plastic fish
in the sunlight it glistens
you say to yourself, “it gleams”


mountains are old and we are young
we cannot experience mountains without
wanting to climb them, even though there’s
nothing at the top
mountains are the first step
to hanging from the earth
by the soles of your feet.
it’s not a long way up
it’s just a first step


my country is December 20, 1955


oil’s right tonight
oil be seeing you
oil be home for Christmas
oil be on top again
mark my words


paper is valuable because it is so valuable
paper lives in another world
paper does not commit suicide
by jumping from tall buildings
even during parades
paper doesn’t know what to do
people don’t understand paper
paper doesn’t give a damn
we should wrap the world in paper
to preserve its mystery forever


plastic is both good and bad
it can be anything
it is never the real thing
you can mould plastic
bend it, break it, eat it
in fact you probably do
plastic feels like plastic
so there can be no mistake
long after you and i are dead
plastic will still be there
smooth, shiny, colourful
plastic lives forever