Dark Room

Frederick Mayer

Darkness, darkness my room,
    darkens me, becomes my Gethsemane garden;
      here no one within
          except mad shadows
                            pearly gray,
          a strange fire in
          candle dream weaver's
                           mystic rays,
          of Harlequin,
          its unwoven tapestry
          reveals tortured conclusions,
          whose heart beats in manic density,
              "Dream of the Red Chamber"
          bedside reader...no tranquility,
          a photograph of her,
  Snapdragons begin
      with flickering ones
      to speak, say:
  "Only through Love one feels
   pain of time, and makes Time completely
                                    still, end."

      "The two shall be one,
        and the outside
        as the inside,
        and the male wih the female
        neither male nor female."
             -Clement of Rome, SECOND EPISTLE
                                         TO THE CORINTHIANS

  Fog rolling in outside
      greyness about floating inside,
      insect head with the cat and the snake,
  Jungle sirens
      with a special ring
      music from the plains of Africa
      with figurines doing a sexual minuet,
  My heart soars, reaches, fires melting
      the cold,
      photograph within snowy wetness
      sunshine redish flair of my Love,
  See patch of light
      drinking life's fullest cup in the darkness
        halo of electricity,
  The picture becomes the room's frame...

  There's a crimson wave washing over,
             a developing meditation and there she is
             form coming to life
             dream outside the real
                      skin that feels so
                      all around the air
                      and "song of joy" becomes the feel,
              with love the dark room
              gives to the positive of our union,
              the last caress not our crest,
                      stepping inside into
                      or coming out onto me.

  My room
        dark with white candle light
        I lay upon bed alone
        jackalope skull's prism eyes
       stare flickering jewels
       throughout and on the walls
       hangman's noose reflected there.
       And, the photograph is...
  My boon
      apart from any dream delight
      landscape of desert and stone
      becomes to materialize
      the deep rich green pools
      alive and living calls,
      the song, the carol fair
      And, to clutch what is...

  Reality is what not to say
                              to see
  the light relects the seamless crystal
        into which the dancer falls
                              and be
       whatever becomes in the dark
       makes room for the life freed.

  *Dedicated to Carol Howard-Mayer

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