Portrait. (poem)

Now I'm going to paint a great canvas--

what I want to do is a self-portrait.

Here I draw the heart--a matchstick head,

here, the brain--a machine concrete and sacred.

Somewhere will be the defenseless nose, the mouth,

no sense in omitting the eyes--two question marks,

here in a corner I'll paint my thoughts--

a shapeless heap of dirty laundry.

The chest--a mirror scratched with frost,

allowing you to see inside,

(with …