FAST DESCENT (in 1975)

Image result for mirror maze images

Hurtling

through the

mirror maze

young-old

embryo.

Contorted,

misshapen,

falling back

one-eye.

Cry “Peace!”

Cyclops crazy

beady, heavy.

Where am I?

Who?

Brown.

Old contankerous

brazen brassy

witch-bitch

delirious.

Stop!

Simple smirky

purple  prude.

I am the

glamorous sham.

Damn.

Staccato waltz,

loping trot,

forget-me-do.

Who?

Who is that spinning,

passing prisms

fancifully

fragmented

to pieces.

All of them

am I–

Please no.

Red.

Gaping maws

dirty paws

shiny smelly

ripened belly.

Yes, no, true.

My God

hell-o.

                                           nm circa 1975

                                       Image es Devlin

About Nan Mykel

At 79, I was just about to stop keeping a journal, but that felt like accepting that growth was finished. I don't want to be finished, yet! I'm 80 now, and struggling to communicate with you, if you'll come and set awhile. P.S. My how time flies! I'm 83 now.
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2 Responses to FAST DESCENT (in 1975)

  1. This poem is as timeless as you are. Don’t ever stop pitching those words over the railing. I’m so grateful to have you out there reading what I need to get off my chest. As I look back I realize that the fates must have arranged for me to move to Athens so I could meet you, and learn about Taco John’s. When you get to feeling lonely, please console yourself with the surety that somebody in Cincinnati loves you.

    Like

  2. Nan Mykel says:

    Thank you, now I feel a whole lot better. I left out two lines, but I can’t say them here.

    Like

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