Monday, April 1, 2013

Les Demoiselles d'Avignon

The feathered air at sea-level
swamped at high tide
& Beauty,
                  I was so taken with the sky I forgot to
compliment you on your shoulders
            & your breatss, so raw
                        the cartoon light can’t touch them

            nor your African mask
            as you sip a mailbomb cocktail
                        the stage set for Eternity

                                    something we don’t understand
                                    & only half believe

although you would probably dance to it if given
half a chance

            As for me I’m convinced it all has to do with the
            bubbles in Mexican glass
                        fucking with the way perspective
                                    grinds against the grain of perception
            but it only makes me thirsty

& your heart bends like a palm tree
in the wind