Vintage US Postcards

Caverns of Introspection and Solitude

The elusive muse, God--
intrinsic as the calcium ingots of Luray.
He slumbers beneath a quilt of millions,
and my incredulity waxes like a titian moon.

Stone, stone, is my mind--
Housed in a subterranean sepulcher,
she breeds my coma in Saracen’s tent,

and trickles seclusion, the sweetest water
that erodes my senses in tandem.
The stalactites of thought testify:
“this is the double-edged sword.”

Nestled in Pluto’s chasm, I wear the veil of Titania:
My face pure calcite, a myriad of lambrequins,
I am what I set out to be:

safeguarded within the stalactite lockets,
though the limestone fetters encase more than they release:
thoughts remain flies in amber.

O old cave whose Dream Lake reflects its
own splendor yet serrated corrugations,

Your poisoned chalice seduces me still.