166 You make me feel I am Carrara overwhelmed With the evasive images you, only, see in me. They crawl between my thoughts, slip from my tongue, infect My breath, attempting to escape the dudgeon of my dreams, The dungeon of my flesh. I'm crammed. I am too small. Losing the grip on the abyss in me. A haunted house, I'm looted by my ghosts. Amid my faces, I am lost. I'm dried by fever to the stupor of a stone. I lie Below the surface of the marble, out of reach, Till you release the creatures of your eyes, imprisoned now In me -- till, with your chisel, you allow them free To find my naked form, to feel it move inside your eyes.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems