The Mirror

THE MIRROR

silver paper mercury, no eye escapes its deep   

for years endures against the wall  

down marbled corridor and hall

the labyrinth’s veins asleep

promises of what might be, its syrup ever sweet

forever men have known the call

their misted minds have felt the fall

the mirror’s murmurs beat

Anticipated living step!

within, the tangle palpitates

fleetly it will dine

Who wanders, aimless, to his death?

the glass accepts his proffered bait

dead do not repine

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Darkheart

DARKHEART

Darkheart in a burning room

Welcome home he'll join you soon

Cares in crystals far above

Morphing shadows sing of love 

Caught you unexpectedly

Caught you in a wood, you see

Flaming head and reddish eyes

Darkheart met you tenderized

Bird and beast, his shape in shift

Moved you then, your heart adrift

Told you that you'd always win

Told you that to wane were sin

Darkheart cold and darkheart ice

Darkheart smiles but not so nice

Meets you where the need rides high

Takes you down where monsters sigh

Leaves you lonely in the black

Leaves you empty, wants you back

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The Pretty Ones

THE PRETTY ONES

they draw their lines with looks, the pretty ones

give only what they want,

sweet amethyst caves where wanderers lose

plumose words from pinkened doors

fading boundaries against the blackness

where no one, nothing enters unbidden

they move beyond this realm, the pretty ones

with poems beneath their eyes

hunger without but never within

breath expiring in flightless aviaries

orienting themselves toward the brightest stars

for none divert their paths

they mystify the sophists, the pretty ones

exist in essence to humble the world

amplify stain where much is old

the eloquence of form in every hazy motion

the consequence of love’s more fatal notions

and never can cause be known

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The Bee

THE BEE

the truth is that a bee flew in my window

and I didn’t notice it for three and a half years

when it began to look so pretty on my curtain,

made noise and gave me cause to recollect

that it’s not the first time I’ve been disappointed

and surely won’t be the last

but it’s a gift of mine: finding something where there’s nothing

it gave no quarter to my stare, little shiny thing

its several legs in unison moving.

what my heart deems lovely my eye makes ugly

and though it buzzed the way it ought

it sought flowers all its own

in gardens where I could never be

--aged augury, soft and watery,

its inability to acknowledge an observer,

a room that had no space for the two of us—

and still, a window I could never open

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Diamond

DIAMOND

diamond in the cotton dark

moves the mirror of my heart

no part we take in turning

boundaries between the two

he, no I, no—must be you

so true the murmurs calming

soft the sleepy dewy eye

the radiant glitter born to die

here lies the dusty twinkling

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