Blind Copies

By Peter Halstead

To those untimely friended
By all my ungot prayers
Which have ultimately ended
In ethereal but empty airs
(Always faithfully replied,
To be completely fair,
But what digits breed
Can digits hide),
On whose disrepair
My Apple feeds
(The accidental debtors
Of those mis-sent screeds
And electrically dead letters),
Deserted posts
Not heard or seen
By the topologic ghosts
In my Möbius machine,
Whose unaired mails
Dare to vaporize
Behind the veils
On which Oz relies:
May the sun their screen suspends
By these shadows make amends.

Miami Beach
March 6th, 2012