You have always been identical.
You wouldn't recognize yourself
through skylights

looking at you in reverse, a blare that does something
carnivorous, a
lantern of scritches and scratching.
Marks of a blazing wick echo…

Echo,
that echo is to grow, FOLDING
its gauzy, fluted fliers against itself,
down its rib cage in plummet. Exeunt:

a perpetually diffusing anarchy of cells in misting, tarnishing pulps of swamp,
a moss that builds and sustains polyrhythms, VAULTING
thorny arms and bony hatches
racing in thatchwork
toward itself and out over the aspens, across us at once,

enveloping as the carbonized,
verified, paused, deliberated Solo
was CAUGHT:

less in cling film than
on surprise,
before cold storage.

If the plankity hunter WAS eaten by "titanium" styrofoam on stage,
he'd later remove himself from inside a dinner table by cordial protest:
day's weeping through cracking wallpaper!

A ray from a satellite
bounces from the porcelain.
Your EYE cannot twinkle.
You have always been identical.

And I… I have always been the same as you.
I wouldn't recognize myself
through the window
or from the spelling of my name:
   You
...
           ou
         --.
                  U
                  .-..