There    Wild thoughts -- phenomena         in every sort of commotion --       float above my mind                 forming enmeshments             with everything ...           My various lives hover over the words, always remaining the same distance away ... Staring into the mirror on my dresser I would like to enter that world-in-reverse. My gaze shifts to the image in an old tarnished frame. Uneven surfaces have always affected my mind. Oh how I wish life was as complete as the wedding ring hanging around my grandmother's neck. She stares from the photograph at someone over my shoulder. Her steady liquid gaze is sultry and dark; her mood, absent. There is always a ghost of a smile about her mouth, though, and love for someone, or something, seems to be there. I touch her lips with my soul.