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Not Sleeping
But Dreaming

When Harvey Met Laura

A sequence of 13 cincema poems
with illuminations by John Gibbens


Gun in the hand of a woman or man
Promises swift release.
The camera lingers
Over its sullen length
And the faltering of fingers
Its steel lends strength.

What if the plot
Had no more plan
Than round and round
And round they ran
Till someone or other got shot?
We found
In that a kind of peace.

* * *

My hand is as the hand of God
I point and people go
Now, having no words, I can speak
Against a sea of troubles, take up firepower



You must remember this…
Whether driven by violent means,
By the ingenuities of comic kinking
Or jealousy and misprision,
Predictably into these closing scenes,
Their true-feeling,
Their promise-sealing kiss
Opens the screen on a vision:
One wider than their waking selves,
One more than a sum of their parts.
Their mouths are in their hearts
To say a still-
World still
Can fall, sinking
Back into one too-long-divided halves.

* * *

To let your eyes give tears tongue
Our heads are large light
We close our lips on
Hounds of love in cry, panting
Are bound with chords, choirs
This we can’t let go


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