Los más leídos ▸
Dave Bonta
They have never stopped watching me
or reminding me of my own,
inferior pair that cannot shoot
sweetness at the world’s
avid mouths. They lurk
in mirrors and behind drapes,
disguise themselves as crockery,
solar flares, or bells that ring
backwards: wholly holy.
If they were ever to blink,
we would all disappear—
let’s keep them under wraps
and over underwires where
they’ll be safe. Only then can men
preserve our immense dignity
and not tremble like virgins
You talk so much of busy trains,
the heat, the harsh florescent light
and how they fall upon the brain.
I would have thought that such a sight
would be a poet’s paradise —
the many varied histories,
the pointless pockets of a life
all written on the identities
of passenger faces. Each look
reveals another form of you
returning the gaze; and each nook
conceals the chance for something new.
But, perhaps, you only perceive
the busy train you want to leave.
As you gaze, I
avert my eyes
lest breath stop.
Behind you, leaves
paint the sun
while sparrows
sing on.
If you're interested, the mirror
will show a flat, brilliant image
of our lustrous clutter, of much
white flesh draped in black, of
green bottles, brown bottles, other
mirrors, crystal, lanterns, jewels—
glass and gems we’ve arranged
as a barricade against dawn.
The woman behind the bar lets
her gaze wander until you express
your pleasure. She wears black
velvet trimmed in lace, a brooch
depended on a black ribbon,
a golden bracelet on her arm.
After you order, your gaze wanders
to the mirror behind her. There her
At first I thought there was a superfine
Persuasion in his face; but the free glow
That filled it when he stopped and cried, "Hollo!"
Shone joyously, and so I let it shine.
He said his name was Fleming Helphenstine,
But be that as it may; -- I only know
He talked of this and that and So-and-So,
And laughed and chaffed like any friend of mine.
But soon, with a queer, quick frown, he looked at me,
And I looked hard at him; and there we gazed
With a strained shame that made us cringe and wince:
Then, with a wordless clogged apology
That sounded half confused and half amazed,
He dodged, -- and I have never seen him since.
Since an empty kago can be carried upon the back of one man.
Therefore the other has nothing to do
But gaze at the white circle
Drawn about the flying moon.