(Memory is many long mirrors) Corridor mirrors reflecting doors Quietly opening and then Noiselessly closing, Letting wet hats and faces In from the rain. (Memory is everything Silently Forever Occurring in mirrors) Closet doors open; Closet mirrors twist a smile and face With a great arm telescoped to the knob. A hundred facets trace Light shooting back into the prismed dark To catch and place Hall mirrors over and over showing Faces sadly bending under hats into the rain. - Gay Street, Greenwich Village, 1960
When in 1960 he wrote this, I don’t know, so arbitrarily setting it to New Year’s Day. Found in his file called poems.odt.
Patrick Meadows 1934 – 2017.