(horror?)
Don't make me crawl, woman!
Hiley Hannatanadana!
I want a girl I saw on tv ... Etc.
... Beautiful poetess in Baltimore Mary-land?
--what?
I don't plan on going there
Because we are constantly bombarded by images of ideal women in the
media, we can no longer judge women naturally.
TXC
And if not poetry then perhaps passion will make an appearance,
Our dull lust ennobled by the bobbed-haired dancer
With a boy’s chest, whose body seemed sleek and dazzling
Beneath the understated smartness of her East Village
Dress. Something stepped from the pages of Fitzgerald,
A lying golf pro or aviatrix,
Whose laugh is like money that can easily
Fix all of one’s unfocused
Heart. We both watched her, imagining scenarios
In which life became art.
Seeing her leave and then leaving ourselves
For more beer and poetry by men we half-understand,
Whose books line our shelves but can never dispel
The silent reminder of unmet demands.
How many such women in one day are canvasses of hope?
You must see them on subways, in the park,
On the street, the grace of their movements,
Their half-sandaled feet,
And how do you cope with the inevitable
Toll such moments inscribe on
The sand of the soul?
Something bizarre has happened: I was attempting to e-mail myself some private notes from the Notes application on my iPhone. Instead, the completely private, unintended-for-public-consumption notes have been posted to my blog! JESU CHRISTU!
I would normally delete the blog post immediately, but it has already prompted a response in the form of a poem from Steve Snyder, so I guess I have to leave it up.