a singularity turning to a mirror

L train station, 14th Street. January 22nd, 2014
A freezing day. A bundled up poet. She was reading a book. Even through the scarf and hat I could tell she was a poet.

oh no! once again
is it even possible to think this fast?
the half Dana-thought I was
mouthing, the dream about a
singularity turning to a mirror;
will any of it –
walking up;
the texture was so grimy black, I
wanted to ask someone what
to do with it.
waking up;
I censored most of the intentions.
Oh well.

Read a poem by Tracey I.

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