This sixth poem is in three micro parts.
See, that's why I don't say things in between poems.
Because what can that mean, you know?
[LAUGHTER] Fine, just read it.
But just there'll be these silences.
And you'll think, something happened?
No.
It's just a micro pause.
[LAUGHTER]
I guess.
It's called "Mirror Window Mirror."
And someone in the class this morning
was asking what the deal is with my titles
and how I come up with them.
And I don't know.
I don't know.
I know I came up with an explanation this morning.
But this one I have no idea why it's called this.
"Mirror Window Mirror" Yes, any sky at night
when the flickering of snow lightning
gently punctuates it, Whatever it
is when it's not bewilderment, or daring, and not fear,
either.
Also, the mottled bark of sycamores
in autumn for where the skin was like that.
Yes.
But more like arousal, or more instead like the mind
just before the idea of arousal courses bluntly through it.
That part about the body asking for it to be broken into,
is that the first or last part?
I actually know why it's called "Mirror Window Mirror."
It's because I was teaching Shakespeare's sonnets
to freshmen.
And there are a few, like three or four
all in a row, that deal with the idea of the eyes
as sometimes a mirror and sometimes a window.
That's why.
Just so you know there is a rationale.
I don't always remember it.
But it came from something.