My audacity, ehehe:

Witching Hour
Sleepless, heat gone
Except underthighs and the
Stickiness of eyes and face
Ablutions later
Maybe a flick, sound down. Subs for the hearing-impaired
Black white Technicolor queens
And baby janes. Limelight names
Little room. Clichés are easy
They obtrude from flatness of blogs
They don’t know. We do and laugh
But we aren’t much happier. We are sadder
But quieter about it. I hope
There is this restraint, at least
Grammar helps

Ponte Vecchio
Speckled the light, we sprang lithe
To the stones. An urchin
Eyed our cameras, we gasped at the
Umbrage of his brows and the shadowed curve
Of dark iris, black pupil, unholy gleam
But in a flash gone
Then a golden woman, braided bag laden
And shaped like vengeful Athena
(remember how she brandished her snakes)
but with a wrinkly grin, the effect broke
and we flattened ourselves against the Arno
pressed into eternal summer

Then on, past madding Americans,
gadding in white of nameless chapel
whispering to olive susurrations
sweeping from smelted hills
|

Whitman:

A Clear Midnight
"This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best,
Night, sleep, death and the stars."

I Sing the Body Electric
"...I have perceiv'd that to be with those I like is enough,
To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough,
To pass among them or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round
his or her neck for a moment, what is this then?
I do not ask any more delight, I
swim in it as in a sea.
There is something in staying close to men and women and looking on them,
and in the contact and odor of them, that pleases the soul well,
All things please the soul, but these please the soul well." |

Some Plath:

Black Rook In Rainy Weather
"....Although, I admit, I desire,
Occasionally, some backtalk
From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain:
A certain minor light may still
Lean incandescent

Out of kitchen table or chair
As if a celestial burning took
Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then --
Thus hallowing an interval
Otherwise inconsequent"

and J's favourite... ehehe
Lady Lazarus
"...Ash, ash--
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there--

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr god, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air."
|

Sinful meal, with equally wicked company wallowing in debauched conversation. J brought back gifts of charmed beads from enchanted isle of burnt tyreshop owners and magical women. G went brown within sclerae. W sashays more than ever. YQ presented himself in same shocking verdure, led us all on merry promenade down tree-lined avenues of "ga-ga-ga-ga-ga" painted ladies (so said I, though J, in peculiarly expansive mood, branded them mere Brazilians, same thing if you ask Me) and Continental stares. In California Pizza (Peking, Rustica, and bad thai) frightened waiters with our hair, eyes, beads and general demeanour. There conversation was most depraved. Then to Haaaagen Dazs, where YQ would have hurled pitiful cups at waitress. Ah, and we the virginal trio performed inexpert espionage before all the lubricity. J hardly at all, what, already stiffening into British reserve and poppycock honoure, eh? Ehehe. |

Have to write something once in a while, even if it is about nothing. Well finished off "Fabulous Small Jews" by an Epstein, and yes he's obviously obsessed with his Jewishness even though he pokes unsubtle fun at those who are in his stories... which aren't half bad really, some even rather good, but the curt twisty endings, or worse, tiny epiphanies, just stink of contrivance when they unfailingly materialize. And a mildly revolting slobbering-fan adulation of competitive sports, not in any way excused or explained, contaminates his compelling portraits of sad, unremarkable people making the best (or something less than that) of their sad, hopeful lives.
Also polished off "The Winter Queen" by Boris Akunin with much more relish. Campy, ironic and knowing, all very clever and light as bubbles.
Watched "Bonnie and Clyde", Warren Beatty is so boyishly handsome, really that's the only description for him, and Faye Dunaway exudes that fatally femme thing in damnably fantastic a fashion.
Watched also "Asterix and Obelix: Mission Cleopatra" and really it's a piece of nonsense, very fun and enjoyable and Belluci again pours her sexuality unstintingly to extravagantly fabulous effect. And no shame of her body, not that delicious wanton. |