Maureen Owen & Phyllis Wat: Postcard Collaborations, Part 1

Spring '05 TOC

Her Parabolic Mirror

for Bernice Abbott

60 copies of an eye or bits or parts of eye            spinning windmill
this repeated eye much shocked to be so moving
the strain of whirring stresses out across the table         towards  the dark
the eye which is all the same eye            can't see into

tempers flare in the locked laboratory of disguise
reducing gestures to a futile drop in crime          As who has cloned
this orb  its expression some interruption    a wide-eyed staring  or catastrophic
while a flaming twin climbs from vest pocket & perks up the view

aborted the stealth (stealing)


66 Eyes

66 Eyes

when you see eyes you see windows
you may be revealing too much
keep them—keep them closed—listen
keep open one of your senses
police are on the street

head away from their shakedown
board a St. Petersburg train
pass the vast junkyard of hovels
one of those dachas is mine

grow vegetables in the summer
pull fruits off a tree in fall
no police around maybe never
I'm pretending to call it freedom
my belly is full

66 eyes of the Virgin
66 eyes of the Archangels
66 there to protect me
eyes all over my skin

eyes are all they can look at
cover my face with a veil
my clothing is not too revealing
not too loose or too tight
time to slip out the gate

your 66 eyes create Paradise
out of a black-robed cipher
your 66 eyes prise a sex-cow
so pure it is— your obsession

66 eyes are inside my head
66 won't get out
I can't call it freedom
lipstick under a veil
but I'm calling it dynamite red

66 eyes are looking at me
66 pinwheels discomfort
66 eyes cut and dissected
66 say do not falter


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Not Enough Night
Not Enough Night
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