Miro’s mirror reflected the skeleton of chaos.
It deconstructed time and made a maze through space.
Miro’s mirror wept suns at Rimbaud’s funeral
and wrote cumming’s epitaph with the blood of commas.
Miro’s mirror gouged out Shakespeare’s eyes.
It pre-saged the death of poetry
and fought World War II in reverse.
Miro’s mirror cracked in half.
The left half reflected "Spring Song" played by Dr. Seuss.
The right half showed the Buddha in the throes of cacophony.
Miro’s mirror deconstructed chaos and made a maze through Rimbaud’s heart.
© Alison Ross 2010
-----Clockwise Cat publisher and editor Alison Ross dabbles delicately in verse. She also spews incessant invective. Her personal utopia would be to dwell inside a painting executed by Joan Miro, wherein Frida Kahlo, Arthur Rimbaud, Jorge Luis Borges, Dr. Seuss, David Lynch and The Cure all converge in felicitous, surrealistic bliss.
