“No, no, it is the three strange angels,
Admit them, admit them, ”
The angel collectors wait where stairways cheat.
Steps rise almost to a door then twists down
following voices you can’t hear. You’ll see
them some nights, flipping through stars. They’re around
at times you ignore, sighing. They repeat
unsayable names, hoping that their sound
calls angels. Collectors play, but they cheat
each raise. Almost twisting doors, they fall down.
Some angels enjoy the stairway game—
able to hide when they want and get caught
in time. Eternity’s always the same
and paths leading nowhere, or staying sought
diverts them. They’ll toy with stars, play with rain
and steal haloes. People are jokes
they forgot after Eden. Cute angels leap through frames,
tossing terror, lightly, at those untaught
humans dancing up strange stairways. That game
stays new. Hiding is fun. They won’t stay caught.
Mark J. Mitchell was born in Chicago and grew up in southern California. His latest poetry collection, Roshi San Francisco, was just published by Norfolk Publishing. Starting from Tu Fu was recently published by Encircle Publications. A new collection, Something to Be and a novel are forthcoming. He is very fond of baseball, Louis Aragon, Miles Davis, Kafka and Dante. He lives in San Francisco with his wife, the activist and documentarian, Joan Juster where he made his marginal living pointing out pretty things. Now, he’s looking for work again. He has published 2 novels and three chapbooks and four full length collections so far. His first chapbook won the Negative Capability Award. A meager online presence can be found at facebook.com/MarkJMitchellwriter. A primitive web site now exists: mark-j-mitchell.square.site I sometimes tweet @MarkJMitchellSF.