Portrait of a Savage by TIF Nick

Long I have wondered what my pretty face
Would look like in the untrue mirror
I have not used reflections for some years,
I trust my friends and shadows; for they

Certainly have superior taste.
Morning: Walk out the bloody door!
To sting as sun is upon me poured
I bibble-bob and listen to my pace.

I see my dwizzled hair flow with the wind
I see the fine cheeks, the lovely beard.
My shadow moves with fish's energy!

Through the blood-warm light that does descend.
The shining love that flow from smiles near
Affirm my shadow affection to me.