la jeune fille a déchiré des bas
“let me be a stolen ditty
writhing. is a word isn’t it
without top? Dirty?”
The head of a wooden doll.
Weekends in stilettos on the boardwalks,
the paint runs-
vaudeville was a holiday
but its over now,
too cool not to enunciate clearly
she drops New York,
becomes a Capulet
leery of copulate
she uses fuck
in her correspondence
to be understood.
The montage presents a range of beds
a blur of deep chested men, hurried
by dementia, one may have been a poet
but he had only sequins for sale.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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vaudeville is only over if you THINK it's over.... lol
i am sure he would have given her the sequins if she showed her boobies
oh and i went in very bad places mr. lute....
forgive me....
i loved the mixed feel of history and sex and raw love/grit and life within this
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How much for the sequins? I buy by the bag I assume?
'tis a very strong poem Sir Lute
in several ways
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Be foresworn to be a Capulet and so did Juliet die forlorn and misguided, so many women die lonely unnecessary deaths everytime they fall for the wrong man lol, promising much and delivering little...but it also could be the alcohol I have consumed tonight that makes me read it this way!
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