debbie millman

Monday, February 13, 2006

Poem: Pretending

I looked at Meredith and thought
Is this what I feel like?
I looked for the calibration, the direction in.

I squinted.
The timbre gave her away and I watched
waiting for a clue, anything to give life

to the empty.
I thought:
It is wrong to borrow this.


Anonymous Dora said...

Hi Debbie,
My name is Dora and I met you earlier tonight at the AIGA meeting.
I forgot to give you my email address so that you could email me tonight's here it is:
Thank you very much and I really appreciate it.

2/16/2006 11:21:00 PM  
Anonymous amosbray said...

Unless "Dora" is an aka for "Meredith" and some kind of poem-a-clef is happening here, I'm going to respond to the actual POST. (;->

I have not cracked the code of this poem yet. Not all poems need cracking, of course, I don't mean to imply it. There are textural mysteries one may appreciate in the mouth as one appreciates oil-slick rainbows in the eye. But here I am looking for the calibration too. Trying to match the delicacies of emotion (feel) to sensory (squints, timbres) to ethics (wrong).

I almost feel I have it (!) if I say "I looked at where Meredith was..." or "I saw the place where Meredith was..." Ah, but then that's doubtless something else again and so I must continue my search for what is, not what I wish to be. -ab

2/21/2006 01:31:00 PM  

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