Bernadette’s Mirror: Eroding

Bernadette’s mirror is a mystery to me.

I’m staring into it. I cannot look away.

All the mysteries behind me are so ugly—
so endlessly hopeless and so fucking ugly—
that turning away, turning around, turning back
isn’t even something that I wish I could do.

I don’t think I’ll understand Bernadette’s mirror
regardless of how deeply I look into it,
how desperately I think about what I see,
how creatively I compose beliefs in words.

I cannot look away. I wouldn’t if I could.

I’m a rock, eroding, thinking about the wind.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Bernadette’s Mirror: Fossilized

Bernadette’s Mirror


The Fossil And The Paleontologist

Fossils Never Run Away, But