Sunday, September 12, 2010

The inky fingered clerk

His dumb ill-fitted glasses
Slide down his narrow nose
Quickly catching her profile
Bent in still repose
But as she turns toward the window
He sees her tiny smirk
And the way that she looks down on
The inky fingered clerk
The inky fingered clerk

He follows her as the sun sets
As the day turns into night
He counts all of her footsteps
Getting every detail right
As he creeps upon the ledge
And to his deadly work
He knows no one would suspect
The inky fingered clerk
The inky fingered clerk

As the blood drains from her face
And her skin turns into chalk
She hears one last stroke
Of her mother’s carriage clock
Then finally she is still
After one last feeble jerk
Cradled in the arms
Of the inky fingered clerk
The inky fingered clerk

The cops had only her body
Her hands and feet unbound
Not one single clue
Or evidence was found
No trail of blood leading
To where inky fingers lurk
Only treachery and cunning
And the inky fingered clerk
The inky fingered clerk

Sunday, September 5, 2010

A Lecture Upon The Shadow by John Dunne

Stand still, and I will read to thee

A lecture, love, in love's philosophy.

These three hours that we have spent,

Walking here, two shadows went

Along with us, which we ourselves produc'd.

But, now the sun is just above our head,

We do those shadows tread,

And to brave clearness all things are reduc'd.

So whilst our infant loves did grow,

Disguises did, and shadows, flow

From us, and our cares; but now 'tis not so.

That love has not attain'd the high'st degree,

Which is still diligent lest others see.

Except our loves at this noon stay,

We shall new shadows make the other way.

As the first were made to blind

Others, these which come behind

Will work upon ourselves, and blind our eyes.

If our loves faint, and westwardly decline,

To me thou, falsely, thine,

And I to thee mine actions shall disguise.

The morning shadows wear away,

But these grow longer all the day;

But oh, love's day is short, if love decay.

Love is a growing, or full constant light,

And his first minute, after noon, is night.