The Quiet

The lake was replaced
with a table reflecting lies
of what was beyond.

A sun sinking rather than rising.
Shadows in brown where blackness hid.
Homeward bound flies buzzing away.

As much as I would
have likened this to be
the world Alice, perhaps only,
did perceive.

Some truth must gnaw
that this is a mere pane
atop that which remains
to another.


Pins dropping
leave only to
imagination.

Flutters rest
on still strings
vibrating.

Madness creeps
from the unknown
crevice.


Lured to the eye
of your imaginary storm.
Poised, your arms ready
to lead.

Plans to shine on
become only a crazy diamond.
The legend falls
before it begins.