Thursday, 3 February 2011

Finding purpose (after Emerson)

A goblin, imp, a dervish plays

among moving curtains, behind that veil;

grinning, winking, stickerly, fey,

thumps my shoulder blade time and again.

Sometimes cloudy vapour rises,

hovers up - above - and sways,

likes to drop a headache, haze

and hang there just above my brows.

Now and again my elbow jolts,

a finger flicks and points this way

along a rounded, hard-edged nail.

Cavort and dance, laughing like rain,

the veil uplifts and vapour flies;

two bright eyes shine out with fire.

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