Unaware of God or the spirits,
The pendulum sings
Its becalmed tingle of sleep,
Soft to the lending ear,
Shadowy to the eye.
Pinned to a wall apart,
I watch its fair tongue,
Wiping grace off God’s
Window of glow,
As more holly mirth
Stares raptly into
Both pendulum and myself.
And my feet become alive
Under the thin flood creek
Water of the floor,
And the room fills with
Fluttering moth wings
That bespoke a sorrow
And grew woolen breath.
The way I see it-
Water and light come from the same core
And their familiarity soothes
The wooden tick with a whisper,
Coming from the eyes
That grasp God, clock and dream.
The narrator’s voice is replete with carefully crafted tones of ennui , ” Dreamy ” exudes an aura of the Gothic. This poem’s Pendelum ,is at least for this reviewer,highly suggestive of Edgar Allan Poe’s.
A rewarding read.