Rear views

Fog in mirror is science and fart,
Dresser mirror holding sparrows
Pecking their selves in deep time.

Fog hides them in serial mirrors
Like mothers who are our blurs,
Who watched shadows of bums.

There is fog that held rear views
In an ongoing mirror of journey
Blurring bums and old shadows.

It is that very fog in the mirror
We write in, our etherear poems
Of bums and their old shadows.

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