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Muse [In a Photograph].

in my little flock of boxes
lay memories without names
she lays with enormous and complicated eyes
she lifts pale forearms
snaps her wings open
she is wild and precious
in a photograph.

these days i look for her
in little side remarks
love was only an angry letter
and i fall between her eyelashes
in a photograph.

i trace theories
of maturities
and impossibilities


she always finished other's sentences
in that lazy librarian look of hers

our brief love affair
was held in a bitter suite
she was an inspiration
i noticed her lips were coloured
with the ink of my unwritten poems.

she was my indian ink love affair,
when i reflect now.

Author notes

Imagined love affair.

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Comments


  • Norman Crabtree
    January 6, 2007
    Edit | Reply

    softening??

    this seems to be a bit more of your softer side here mate, sorry i ant being around for a bit...

    despite that you seem to of avoided most of the usual trapfalls of a love poem. and put a deeper slightly darker but not depressing spin on it.


    • James Dean
      January 6, 2007
      Edit | Reply
      Why thanks. It always really means a lot when you give me a good review.
      And you'd better write soon.


  • Abbey Normal
    January 6, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    I love this... It's strange how these words perfectly reflect my life right now. I love this... because these words touch a very personal place inside my mind. These words haunt me because I know what it feels like to have a love affair with a "muse in a photograph".

    It's beautiful, Tad.