ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 4
POINT OUT
here is an impossibility
resting on the floor of a room bare
except for this thing that cannot be
it turns itself about and about
looking for a mirror
but nothing will agree to reflect it
it wishes to see itself so that
it can join the kingdom of what exists
but all it has is an empty space
so much not there that
it doesn't even have an odor
the only one it has in all its starkness
is me coming to it with consolations
that sound like a genealogy
leading up to my own name