“When I imitate myself, I am a number of certain people,”

When I imitate myself, I am a number of certain people,

some of them certain. I, myself, am a master of certain people

which implies mastery is possible, something to look into,

esther spyglass, esther file cabinet. I store in me

a compelling fact: while the Book of Esther is one

of only two books that does not name God,

it is impossible to argue that Esther is unimportant to God.

If I named God, I would name him more like a boat

than a dog, but more like a dog than a dead relative.

Metaphysically, I am more centaur than dog, more centaur

than boat. It was my top half that said: “If you do not fear

death, you lack imagination,” which implies my top half

has mastered the art of speaking. I am a master of certain people

when I imitate myself, when I imitate myself

which parts of me are flattered? I have to believe the stagehand

is testing the lights, but I get to believe that to exist is to test the light.

If there’s a velvet curtain: I will be good when it lifts. God,

I haven’t confirmed my surroundings because I haven’t opened my eyes.