Tuesday, September 20, 2011

The Copier's Mouth

The Copier’s Mouth

What’s the word for
when we mistake the thing
for what it looks like.

The purple and blue
polka-dotted umbrella under
the desk looks just like mine.

It is. Ownership is not
my first thought, but familiarity,
recognition of form and color.

What is this the evidence
of, my delay in comprehension,
a cognitive pause. It’s Platonic,

this problem, forms with
a capital or lowercase F, the object
blocking the light or the shadow.

The new copy machine
makes copies and takes pictures
of words that can be emailed.

I forget the document
in the copier’s mouth, so I download
the file and print it out.

Which version should
we work from. I can’t not double
check my copy against yours.


  1. Hann-ah, the Hannannator, having a Socratic dialogue with a copy machine. The Han Ole Opry - making copies. The Hannamatrix looking for "the thing" in the copy room. Is it live or it is Hammermill? If your desk doesn't have your name, how do you know it's yours? Why is the recording more familiar than the real?

  2. I take so much delight in your work, Hannah; how you make poetry from the stuff we take for granted and leave us full of thoughts and not a few questions. Wonderful!

  3. I can only smile- it is already said in duplicate xx

  4. Hey, that voice sounds just like mine. Is it you, or me?


  5. mmmmm, so layered and somehow the rhythm of a typewriter comes to mind...




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