-from Shadow Self/Dante Dream 14-17   



14

In the burning desert,
my shadow's voice harrows the sand.
A hot wind hushes the murmuring voices.
Fire falls like flakes of dry ice.
A new violence sears my skin.
Another rhythm of pain.

I am with the un-repented dead.
They are the hub where dark circles spin.
I totter on the edge, fall.
Everywhere is the crackle of charred flesh.



15

My mentor walks his error
like a leashed dog 
around another circle of hell.
I am giddy with remembrance,
the folly of what I believed I knew.

My shadow fades beyond the pier.
The only true horizon is time, and I
am dumb to my waking long ago.
Tomorrow I fell into this dark dream.

Where am I?
At every turn I find
and leave my self behind.
I hear my mentor speak 
the outline of my ambition.
He promises me again success
which once I too easily believed.



16

Water swirls near my feet
sounding like the buzzing of bees.
A crescendo, then break of a sudden storm.
Three figures run swiftly toward me
hailing me as savior, long lost friend.
I see only their gaping wounds.
I know I am nameless here.

The sea flames.  My shadow appears,
whispers in my ear.  I cannot hear
for their deafening sighs, "savior, friend . . . ."
One voice then, strident, searing, rises about the rest:
"Tell them of me!  Tell my name!"
I am past care, numb again.
A wave rises.  On its back
a shuddering sable form is swimming,
closing fast to where I stand.



17

My shadow says this is the beast
called Fraud who can assume
a winsome, sincere, reassuring face.
His body writhes like a snake.

I call to him; my shadow disappears.
I am on the seventh rim where tribes
of sightless men, eyes gashed and gushing,
call my secret name.  It is a falcon's cry.
How can they know?  I am
my shadow's dream, empty as air.
The falcon shrieks, "quick now, here!"
Tortured wails rise like wind, cataract.
The falcon dives.
The monster rocks.