Eisoptrophobia by Akira Rabelais

...fluttering and
whispering ever dreams,
a little gilt smiling
and nodding
nearly twelve years
of another bed.

This is nothing
flooded with delight
and amazement,

the solemn minuet too,
performed by the hand.

slowly down she walked,
madly through the open
window notorious,

sunning herself
on the shrill laughter
of Violets... and,
his hand upon his heart.

back you go, into your soul
that would only recompense
care by forming the source
of little skeletons.

Witness trembles
streaked with chill
touches certain,
and little curtains
of gauze in silence
caught sight,
guessed where should
you imagine not to speak,
under glass surrounded
lost in admiration
of light scattered,
in its own face laughed
back at it.

a portrait led
into mirrors, their hearts,
the quick magic of their letters
gives hands traverse,

memories left in mirrors,
ceilings wing into
the velvety soul,
but also the animal itself,

they were not among
the twined skeletons
filled with shadows
for the sun does not
dissolve

and yet sight
reaches the mirror.

it is not any correspondence
between figures from
the purpose of playing,
whose end, abruptly as if it
is of delight.

An intellectual pioneer as much as anything else, Akira Rabelais issued forth musical creations and inventions from his perch at CalArts. Born and raised in South Texas, one of his childhood pastimes involved shooting metal plates with BB guns so that he could experience the unique sound that it caused.

akirarabelais.com