poetry: little mirrors

							a whisper
					of light, of new 
					time
						an arrangement and bouquet
						for something to heal
						to pay
						to feed our souls 
			(we are gathered here today)

				the lights come on
					blue and reflective on a room
					full of glasses
					tiny mirrors reflecting each of us back
					onto ourselves


	this panopticon
		this panorama of regulation
			this window into each mind never leaving
			one alone for long
			lest there be sigh 
					or sleep

							words used
						jumbled and indecipherable 
					making laws and rules that bind us in mediocrity 
		
		I want to shut the screen
			to mute the sounds of talking
			of words that have no backing
				except for the gold standard we are assigning and agreeing upon
					a gold standard backed by hubris
								  by the unwavering notion of
								knowing what is best
							before anyone else


gather your taxes
I’ll be dreaming

				did you know you can live with half a brain? he asked
				

		looking at these little mirrors
		I know