Photo Shoot

By Peter Halstead

Embedded in its Lucite
Haze, the toy moon sweeps
Over loose white
Pillows where the day world sleeps;

Branches lose themselves in snow,
Muffled up in pines; nothing shifts
But sky, the slow
Wind silent on the spindrifts,

Stars immortalized
By the blinding counterfeit
Of a comet’s red-eyed
Flash, whiting out its portrait:

Dreams are vision’s Braille,
Mystic ads that interrupt
The pages of the night and pale
Once the realistic sun comes up.

Rue de Varenne
April 7th and 8th, 2005