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.