015 |
Singing for a stripe minded sailor whodocked on my balcony,towering with paramount through my door.I'm singing such a song of girlish appetitewanton in the worst,but if only to reach round for my spin...
Posted by C on Fri, 25 May 2007 01:34:00 PST |
014 |
Saint Augustine bruises a Roman whoreHe plays dice in the alley with Caligula, throwing down Roman coins.Johnny the Baptist is used for a rousing game of Strike the apple off the head.Saint Thomas Aqu...
Posted by C on Fri, 25 May 2007 01:34:00 PST |
012 |
Make love to the sweet grassesA dream about an arrangement of petuniasSilly girlish thingsAnd a nursery for snails underneath a sheep's head rock. A day spent with Dottie, a kitten with a beauty mark....
Posted by C on Fri, 25 May 2007 01:33:00 PST |
013 |
O, here is some noteworthy stupidity. Why can you not write, dear girl?"It must be," she stumbles, "Because all the men, well they are either effeminate and Ethelian, or they have grossly oversaturate...
Posted by C on Fri, 25 May 2007 01:33:00 PST |
010 |
I am a horse thief. There's a carriage horse, a quarter horseA horse of prestige and good breeding, ArabianSome are groomed, proud, but a draft horse still, With trot and pace. The brand of the old W...
Posted by C on Fri, 25 May 2007 01:31:00 PST |
011 |
I don't believe in language anymore. I believe in water-funnels, the cyclical sisters of the water spout, watching the wall cloud become land fierce and furor.I watched the storm from my television, c...
Posted by C on Fri, 25 May 2007 01:32:00 PST |
009 |
I prayed this afternoonAnd God offered benediction in the form of the electric coffee grinderSo I cannot hear myself eulogize By the coffee pot about some lost something or anotherThat used to be a pr...
Posted by C on Fri, 25 May 2007 01:31:00 PST |
007 |
This person turned to me, barenaked as a RomanI was smoking on the top of a house.You glowed like a Caravaggio painting in my mind, but felt like a damp fish, hand on my head, showing me a thing or tw...
Posted by C on Fri, 25 May 2007 01:29:00 PST |
008 |
With the lift and fade of ambiguous cigarette formationsAll around the contrast of a rich soil black and stark white, I cannot decide whether I find him attractive beyondThe eyes; all silver-screened ...
Posted by C on Fri, 25 May 2007 01:29:00 PST |
005 |
The rumbling in my player piano became quite maddeningUpright, yellowed ivories, though worn, still sturdy, Gave a version of a melodic curtsey.The expectancy of an elegant rouge and tasseled curtainT...
Posted by C on Fri, 25 May 2007 01:28:00 PST |
