Fuzzy Looking Glass, or Diptych Come Face to FacePaula Mendoza-Hanna
"...down, down, down there was nothing else to do" Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland I. The dazzle quits me. You will not know? You've dired! You dross! You refuse— I? Shut up! And keep her shut. The bastard archer blinded by needles I've stuck in his eye. Cross my heart! Also: con- scripted Callisto in her drunken ellipse. I, Inana's mama vexed by: No. Do not, and No you will Not? No. O cruel illusion—er, I mean perhaps—you wicked and wicker bound and bagged furler of sticks tinder for my cigarette. I am, yet unignited. Understand, man? Ignis fatuus. I deceive I lie with your figment, ripe fruit I have supped and tongued and toothed. Not another secret peeked through your window. Athena does not watch you. I do. (the pirate, the parson, the jew) You dreamt my body carved in X Casket, in the wet dirt of a new continent (drowned world, unconquered) My merchant, my malady, my moor. ....how wetly these silks enrobe the roaring sea II. and your absence swells: No. And no. And no. Your no over and under and no again, or stood on my head No to my backwards and downwards and no to my left, and my right and no in the morning, and no at night And no bent over your high (bare) backed leather sofa, and no on the cold concrete floor, and no on my pretty pink knees. And no slapped pink on my pretty pink cheeks. And no on the kitchen counter—my right hand in dishwater, the other blistered on flame. And no, no, no rioting your name and no with my head pushed into the pillow and no closing a hollow (that!) small of my back pressed against the stall's fiberglass frame and no when I broke your guitar between my thighs and no when I thumbed the cold lip of your shiv and no when your stoner neighbour came by to watch and no because I know, know, know YOU LIKE TO WATCH and no bound fast (fast find) to your mission oak chair and no how I strip sanded, and splintered and bare I must no longer marvel every March, at your electric fur and pink keyhole eyes. Will not kill my next minute choking a gasp, to look on— with strange rage— your clock.
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