the intricate anatomy. of and -uselessness of Stargazing

I meet myself in the mirror several times a day

Each for the first time, I think

And my eyes discover themselves

Deities with existentialist questions

As if the Sun felt its own fingers

For the first time

And was born, then

Re-introduced to the temple of my mushy architecture

The odd extremities and mad mechanics

Of my alien anatomy

And its curiously quivering, casual flaps

I become the Universe, and see myself

(This terrified, arrogant insect)

And my soul dissolves into a question

Feels supernaturally silly in my body

As if the wind were a puppeteer

In the spectral peripherals of my vision

I am haunted by a million past instances of such interviews

And a trillion packages of future ones

In which I have gazed into the endless neptunes of my eyes

Searching for something that is probably nothing

Having icy intercourse with the idea of myself

Which spurns endless embryos of thoughts

And so the countless cadavers of my souls, stacking

On top of one another

And I’ve found I define myself

By the last time I’ve chanced

Upon my reflection

These phantoms of myself

We’re almost too terrified to acknowledge one another

Meanwhile I scorn my youthful skeleton

Hiss at my budding sex spots or unripe eyes

Sigh at the sags in my somber skin

Urge the waxing of my youth

Stare as it ebbs away

Wish to escape into my pupils

Or just switch places with my reflections

Then all at once we’ll disappear

Ours hours finally spent

To realize in a gasp

That my life was the snap of a flame

An organic moment, fleeing itself

And all that remains now

Are the ghosts

Of my reflections