Monday, December 10, 2007


he shuts one eye
more than half the moon

Did you know I get her single and married names confused? Sometimes they just mix a little. On other occasions they completely merge. Once they were a curious mix of undecidability and mosaic that immediately unraveled into clean-cut alternate layers, like those cubic liquorice allsorts. Mostly it is the names themselves. Which name refers to which situation? It is there that the muddle exists, like this night blackbird. I think it is seen, but maybe not. It happens and, now, I accept it.

her outline
in an old mirror
a finger touch

by Stanley Pelter
Claypole, Lincolnshire, England
first published in past imperfect, 2004

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