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"50 Words for Poe: camera obscura"



The Night Flower 
turns in her bed
in a dark room
stories of wraiths 
like flies buzzing in her head
and blood-sucking bugs that bite
Rippers and lovers dead
come to collect her from her
ornery black-balled plight

The box is closed it would seem, tight.
She returns to her Chronovisor, 
a mind, tincture of absinthe blind

she dreams to sleep awake through time . . .

Blue was she 
very blue
the result of 
Amorous Congress
with Mr New

Rosebud was wearing 
a hue of crushed
Camisole Pink crinoline
while off to Bedfordshire
in the gloaming
Mr New tipped 
her blushing pink 
all fresh & velvet green

Somewhere between 1 & 2
She found herself 
in the Lake 
between 
the whorey frost of 
Heaven & Hell
all blue all blue
our blue faerie 
not Green,
Fey Blue

This happens
when the beast with two backs
doesn't dance well and
The Wolf 
is let loose 
out of his
cage in the zoo

Blue was she
very blue 
a shade of New's 
best of best blue
though like a watercolour
that bleeds off the canvas
pale ghost white 
opalescence
becomes her,
he considers,
as red fox hidden watches on
the fox is silent it is out of view

Her mind drifts off 
like she’s with 
The Other
dancing in a dream not blue
there’s that certain something 
in his voice that numbs her
in his eyes that come, undone her,
she blinks once
for now he is seen cold
He is New

Eyes open wide
fixated just so 
frozen in that moment 
impossible to close
staring through crystal 
the cold ice is pure not stained
a flurry of pretty snowflakes
wasted confetti all above her 
it begins to rain

Mr New smiles at her 
like he has a mouthful of Sugar 
and considers she resembles
a drifting white swan feather
gracefully 'off'
blue green reeds
tangled in her hair 
all about her they sway
she bleeds he stares

Mr New's smile is disarming and delayed
calmly he turns his back on her and walks away

Somewhere on the Other Side
It is  a brand New day...

(LadyLabyrinth/2019)



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IjX8xfZ7sg0
Elysian Fields/Lady in the Lake



camera obscura/ latin. dark room



“Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the fold fin in the prophyry front
The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me.

Now droops the milk white peacock like a ghost
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me"
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