I am not
I came to sit out late one night, to this place I am familiar in, wrestling with the problem: I am not. There is a mirror at the end of the yard, it doubles up the space, if you position yourself just right and gaze. It’s merely a trick, a sleight of eye, taken for granted and accepted even though we know it lies. Not in any malignant way, for sure It’s merely a piece of glass, afterall, backed with silver and hung from the wall. Consider, It’s not that different than this poem you’re reading now, envisioning and seeing me talking to you in, out loud. I am not here either, nor what I see - you are the glass and your mind the silver backing, reflecting me. I am not fooling you, nor leading you astray, there is no more deceit in here than the reflection, outside, that you see. I am alright with that, when my work is done, look into your mirror, take a reflection, and in any way, make it your own. Times three.
My reading of ‘ I am not '
Photo: Penzance, Cornwall.2021 Nikon d750
Addendum: I have been considering adding an audio reading of my poems for a while now. As with having my photograph taken, I also strongly dislike hearing my own voice but, for some reason, Substack seems to make me braver in trying something new. It would be good to know what anyone thinks about hearing the poems read out loud - whether it adds or detracts from the overall enjoyment / understanding / effect?
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