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Saturday, February 6, 2010

View in Parallax



One night the very sky opened up above;                

And there was the projector for my whole life~

Spinning and whirring away thru the reels,

Mad black and white inkblots did the tango
Frames displaying in a choppy too-fast stream.
And the dead moved through those movies too,
Trapped forever in two dimensions
I hope the film doesn't break before it's time-

2 comments:

  1. There is some powerful imagery here, Patti. I like the new look of your blog - it suits the content of your poems very much.

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  2. Maybe I am projecting when I say the inkspots ,the dead and self all seem to live in two dimensions...the living and the dead...and ends don't seem like coffee breaks but more like broken film...well said ....

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