Eyes Like Flints

A streak of sin, 
just as culpable, 
gives back my pains. 
A half-finished poem 
jolts me out of my vision. 
Someone drops the moon- 
and becomes evident in mist. 
A profile floats. I 
imagine the spreading smile. 
I want to understand myself. 
The colors blend. Have 
you read Rilke? You will not 
rise from the surface of- 
life and death. 
Authenticity has become 
rarer. Copyright to kill is 
religion. An aquiline nose 
smells the prey.