Deborah,
I didn't get at all from the title and the poem that
it was meant as a 'bit of a joke'! And no, I don't
think there's 'perfect love'; it seems to me closer to
the 'heart stutter' in your poem, the pause in which
imperfection is allowed to exist and is, perhaps, even
loved. I don't know though, for my sense of the poem,
including the title, was that it was weaker where it
became more general, in the first couple of lines and
at the end, where it seemed to be more about the
abstract ideal of perfection than the particular
feeling that drove the rest of it.
Best,
Rebecca
--- deborah russell <[log in to unmask]>
wrote:
> Rebecca,
>
> Is there perfect love? I've not met anyone that
> believes there is - the title and the poem is a bit
> of
> a joke, isn't it?
>
>
> Deborah
>
>
>
> >
> >I like this, Deborah, though I don't know about the
> >'perfect images' of the title or repeated in the
> >second line. I especially like this:
> >
> > > crash the moon,
> > > there’s a stutter
> > > deep inside . . .
> > > pause the heart
> > > (long enough)
> >
> >though at the rest,
> >
> > > to make me believe
> > > again,
> > > in love
> >
> >I wonder if we're not back to the sort of implicit
> >'perfect images' of the soul, why is it important
> to
> >'believe, again, in love'? in the general, the
> >abstract. When you can't believe in it in the
> >particular. . . ? How do you believe in the
> stutter,
> >as the heart's pause, and then go on to an abstract
> >faith?
> >
> >Well, this just may be me, a way in which I think
> that
> >those who believe in love in the abstract are often
> >unwilling to accept any love in the particular
> because
> >it's never 'perfect images'. So I hope it's ok to
> say
> >so, since I'd guess from the copyright you wrote it
> >last year and might not be adverse to questions,
> >
> >best,
> >
> >Rebecca
> >
> >
> >
> >--- deborah russell <[log in to unmask]>
> >wrote:
> >
> > > Perfect Images
> > >
> > > the soul’s eyes
> > > hold perfect images . . .
> > > long hair
> > > in fiery screams
> > > snow/ice suspended -
> > > breathless - drifting
> > > stellar flashes;
> > > white teeth,
> > > dark, dove eyes
> > > slices of sun, juice
> > > drips from your lips
> > > and skin...
> > > prismatic beads
> > > slip around your feet
> > > sift through hands
> > > shatter the stars,
> > > crash the moon,
> > > there’s a stutter
> > > deep inside . . .
> > > pause the heart
> > > (long enough)
> > > to make me believe
> > > again,
> > > in love
> > >
> > > Deborah Russell, © 2005
> > >
> >
> >
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