In a Barber’s Chair[1] “Before me and, I know, behind Tunnels the mirrored mirror of myself.” “At least, your self that reflects On where the edges of reflection meet. `I breathe the mountain air of numbers.’ He’s ascetic too; he’d seize every minute To look between the stars, Wants time diamond-cut, and pure as glass.” “In a distant glass, I, illogical, Blackgnarled, a tree.” I have mountainsides on every side Where one and one are a forest That roots... Read more