The Mirror

"I only remember the onion, the egg and the boy.  O that was me, said the madman."   — Nicholas Moore  1 "I bite into an apple & then get bored before the second bite," you said. You were also Samson. I had cut your hair & locked you up. Besides, your room was bugged.  A former inmate left his muse  spread-eagled on the picture window.  In the glinting late-day sun we saw her huge & cross-eyed breasts appear diamond-etched against the slums of Harlem. You tongued your pills & cursed the residents. You called me Judas. You forgot I was a girl. 2 Your hands weren't birds. To call them birds would be too easy They drew circles around your ideas & your ideas were sometimes parabolas. That sudden Sunday you awoke & found yourself behind the looking glass your hands perched on the breakfast table waiting for a sign. I had nothing to tell them. They conversed with the eggs. ...

In town it was very urban but in the country cows were covering the hills. The clouds were near and very moist. I was walking along the pavement with Anna, enjoying the scattered scenery. Suddenly a sound like a deep bell came from behind us. We both turned to look. "It's the words you spoke in the past, coming back to haunt you," Anna explained. "They always do, you know."       Indeed I did. Many times this deep bell-like tone had intruded itself on my thoughts, scrambling them at first, the rearranging them in apple-pie order. "Two crows," the voice seemed to say, "were sitting on a sundial in the God-given sunlight. Then one flew away."       "Yes . . . and then ?" I wanted to ask, but I kept silent. We turned into a courtyard and walked up serval flights of stairs to the roof, where a party was in progress. "This is my friend Hans," Anna said by way of introduc- tion. No one paid much attention and severa...

About resititution, say this, the money is nice. Buys schöne Aussicht, Schlagrahm, Rosenthal and Rucksack (my bitter, modest Wermut) O lovely handy twenty years later. Neither mangled, crippled nor marks, nor bruises on it. Honest cash money healthy as when last seen, separated, kissed goodbye— (Besides, I was hardly born, no more than Horst Eichmann; it was my father's business) Why where have you been my darling and how long I thought you one with dentures, gold teeth, babies' bones, the glue pots of the world had had you— (And why should they get fat on it? They're getting more than enough) Let's know ourselves my treasure. Come Bundesbahn together.                       Ashes Ashes                       fall down, all, fall down [From: Halley, Anne. (1...