The Beguiled Eye [2]

By Jennie House


December 23 2014

I wake very early

and fly 1000 miles

to meet you as planned

and find a pattern

of stone flags,

some wet, some dry

below a balustrade

sand-lichened to marble

where, in the quiet gutter,

two leaves flatten

to conceal the startled butt

of some jettisoned smoke.

A wheeled tumble of birds

become quite still

lead the eye


to an emptiness

of four flights,

four landings

where a barred room

is an enticement

into the forbidden void.


January 7 2015

Again I seek uplands

of curved white space

so carved with light

(distolic, sharp beat

systolic, beat shade)

that a fine brush of dreams

has a small giant

shut his practised eye

to chiaro’s scuro

and Venetian red

and cut sound boards

for sonic slipstreams

thro’ our remembered

waste place

to the familiar unknown.


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