25 April 2011
This thought is clothed in its address,
That minds the light with darted hand,
And breathes the night air too:
And too this dress is thought,
Though breathless and unlimbed.
What is the mind in its own place,
That makes without within?
What calamity of memory is its obverse
In meet wonder?
To make a heaven of a hell
Wants this mirror that sees itself.
15 April 2011
Perfumed we pace across
The space of an object palace.
Well-spoken tokens of invitation,
And vials of scent,
Open what's illusion to elusive:
As a symbol in a glass
Signifies the signified merely;
Unlike interiors, in action reified,
Accreted in an I.
A work-related smile
Meets my conspiring nod,
We ligatured by a protocol
To the objects even, remembered placed about.