The Deadly Mirror

The Deadly Mirror

Inconclusive thoughts

are what I hear inside my head:

because the mind’s eye lit the sun. 

Must I give up the world

to be saved?  Shall I forget

his lips on my nape to write

what I perceive to be a new earth?

My imagination flutters like a swallow,

and cries like a hungry baby.

I sit and play the saxophone

in self contemplation.  The mirror

tells the truth, but not enough

to merit constant thought.

I am folding inward over

and over.  Six inches of words

and I am betrayed, hypnotized into

believing I have achieved

all there is to achieve in this art.

Therefore, I start a new contemplation

of the swallow and I listen to the fragment

of phrases like Imitations, Life Studies

and Notebook. I will never find the one

flower that sustains all the earth.