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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