There is a fire in the mirror,
floating like a vapor on
the soft summer air.

Splendid is the vertigo of nuns,
the nakedness of motion,
and the realization the moon
is a drowning white tortoise.

I am terrified of clowns,
of the retarded, of blue-haired women,
of all those whose perfection
has been stolen.

Shatter this wound.
Erase it from memory.
Cancel the universe.

David Kowalczyk

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-betrayal-of-soul-by-reason/