Across the broad rain-scrubbed piazza,
\nA wet warren of windows suggested
\nThat section of viaduct had been carved into homes
\nA thousand, two thousand years of bricks
\nLanded on my head right then.
\nNot far away, almost six hundred years ago,
\nBrunelleschi worked with maths and mirrors to discover
\nPerspective, and it\u2019s what I want:
\nNot maths, but mirrors that will give me
\nPerspective: a hint, a clue, a Rosetta Stone
\nTranslatable is what I want, need, ask.<\/p>\n
I need a mirror, or a splash of mirrors to open this universe.<\/p>\n
In Versailles, Louis had mirrors
\nWhen a hand mirror could cost
\nA lifetime of wages, and most of his subjects
\nUsed puddles for reflections, he had mirrors
\nThe size of grand portraiture
\nAnd nobody said no, you cannot
\nCannot use all those lifetimes of labour
\nJust to enjoy your own narcissism.
\nYet when I who am used to mirrors
\nTurned the corner into that grand windowed
\nHall with all its windows and mirrors
\nIt crashed through whatever I was!<\/p>\n
I know my life is all around me as is yours;
\nStrewn like rubble from the transformations
\nEnacted by some ancient mason trying to
\nMake a future out of his past: trying to
\nHue our fenestration out of his past: allowing me
\nTo look at a puddle, see the moment of reflection
\nCreate my window, my mirror to the answer that
\nI\u2019m soaking in.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Across the broad rain-scrubbed piazza, A wet warren of windows suggested That section of viaduct had been carved into homes A thousand, two thousand years of bricks Landed on my head right then. Not far away, almost six hundred years … Continue reading