Mirrors

If I had an axe I would cut until blood, precious blood,
These drippings like rubies of ravenous intensity,
Soaked the slaughtered earth. Craven would I watch,
Saliva dripping and slipping into reveries, until the clocks
Changed gold and breeze of freshness blew:

Fresh breath, why is the world soiled and bothered
With their vexations – why do they eat, why do they breathe?
I need a perch on the golden boat, a prow away from the muck,
A respite of boiling oil from grief. Because I am changed,
I am mixed! This cupid boy hath mixed me, this boy,
This variance of a mingling progeny, dance of the craving earth,
Glutton of time and youthful dreams I watch.

Why can't my body be yours? Is it because the lens of the mind
Settles deeply upon me, because I telescope and spy
Through a veined glass? This vanity of the winds and scribbled speech,
Of salt-pools limpid in forever won't keep me. If I could have your body...

But is it given to touch an immensity? No, it is not given –
Rather taken, erept, forsaken. Why will I tremble in agony,
Wishing for an adze, an ax, to end other people's (and I mean my own)
Misery? Forsaken is the mind, and stained and wilting glass.