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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