May 2018
the golden age of stripping coincided w/
the golden age of the
pin-up; later came the
**** centerfold & strippin
g became go-go
& lap dancing ; bar girls pick-up strangers
& the poet goes alone to the low-rent *******
to look at the broken spiritless hookers & write about them later
in his hotel room; every night the poet he sits sketching the red
bodies of the danci ng ****** in 7-inch platforms & stilettos some bare footed; always the blissful moment when ***** naked feet strut the
makeshift runway - girls on the raise d platform stages
in the raised red light welts on their bodies
from offhand middle-aged women's sagging **** on display beatings & burns, he sits & Nephelem
drinks & every woman has a story they live in their skin w
writes but she
red & blue swirling
light s like an ambulance sees him night after
night & wants to
know him; how a can u write fat flabby ***** that given birth now rule like the dinosaur
night after night
eh, where are the childr en & talk to no one, she asks
& he says nothing, closes his
notebook & he b/c t he devil stole the infant's soul at birth knew all about her mother ***** are the only people who really need p her mother was a redheaded
twin who always dyed her hair platinum
blonde
always an identical twin odes oets to make sense of their lives;
no one els e e can do it her mother a *****'s skin is empty
always told her find ur
own poet; he neve r gets tired of writing about ******; secr et priestesses he's in heaven blissfully scratches evveryreal thing real & move she makes in his\ lined notebook night after night what could be writing
she wonders to the pulsing old disco
music rrrrrrrj hip=hop & clasic dance numbers
every prophet of thinking about th
e ****** dancing in his lap dancing & collecting twenties all night
mind 24/7 as thought-symbols dancing in & out of the darkest place
s of his mind all the while
has a ***** for a soul *****-fetish
cult mate
he genuinely loves them; ask Ahab
they are gifts to mankind the true angels of the every
morning's awakening prophecy
will tell ur story & u will l live
leaves ten on the bar, walking out & up the her mother did the same thing when she got to america & she
hasn't seen her since
street. she grabs her a sudden, urgent need purse & coat & runs after
him catching up to him up the street; where
are u from she says, he says new york city, she says
she's from Costa Rica; he obviously doesn't care she wants to see what
he writes, like read
it & he stops & says no way but u can hear me
read it; let's g o she sai d but they don't get far;
she knows him from
another life &recognizes
his scent easily his primal
pheromones lighting
up her senses; she pushes in on him & he leads
her down an alley to a door balanced open w/
a bottle, he pulls her inside onstage a guy is
telling old Flip Wilson jokes doing the female parts
& the poet pushes
his gf down in a chair
that breaks & she gets
another one & sits staring as he takes the spotlight
in the smoke congeste d subterranean underground
backdoor after-hours cabaret; u said u were a
stripper he read, darker than the go-go bazaar but w/ a hot spotlight poin ting at the black corner that was the stage
she had said nothing but he knew
she was a stripper & h
e had seen her red body
in the red light every night for hours on end & all of her friends
filled w/ scars & he watched
her dance naked almost embarrassed & red & cold
in the unnatural air & he just sat there making
blind sketches looking away & thinking of various
things from the Pope to outer space & he
had gotten he barely seemed to
notice her swaying there beside him;
& walked out as soon as she noticed him, as soon
as she broke the fourth wall as if she were an actress but
of course he did
& coming off the stage accosted a member of the audience
& staying in c haracter as he read she got up in front
of the punk poets assembled in the dark and shucked her coat
to stand naked and
began to dance to his poetry;
he barely seemed to notice her
the golden age of the
pin-up; later came the
**** centerfold & strippin
g became go-go
& lap dancing ; bar girls pick-up strangers
& the poet goes alone to the low-rent *******
to look at the broken spiritless hookers & write about them later
in his hotel room; every night the poet he sits sketching the red
bodies of the danci ng ****** in 7-inch platforms & stilettos some bare footed; always the blissful moment when ***** naked feet strut the
makeshift runway - girls on the raise d platform stages
in the raised red light welts on their bodies
from offhand middle-aged women's sagging **** on display beatings & burns, he sits & Nephelem
drinks & every woman has a story they live in their skin w
writes but she
red & blue swirling
light s like an ambulance sees him night after
night & wants to
know him; how a can u write fat flabby ***** that given birth now rule like the dinosaur
night after night
eh, where are the childr en & talk to no one, she asks
& he says nothing, closes his
notebook & he b/c t he devil stole the infant's soul at birth knew all about her mother ***** are the only people who really need p her mother was a redheaded
twin who always dyed her hair platinum
blonde
always an identical twin odes oets to make sense of their lives;
no one els e e can do it her mother a *****'s skin is empty
always told her find ur
own poet; he neve r gets tired of writing about ******; secr et priestesses he's in heaven blissfully scratches evveryreal thing real & move she makes in his\ lined notebook night after night what could be writing
she wonders to the pulsing old disco
music rrrrrrrj hip=hop & clasic dance numbers
every prophet of thinking about th
e ****** dancing in his lap dancing & collecting twenties all night
mind 24/7 as thought-symbols dancing in & out of the darkest place
s of his mind all the while
has a ***** for a soul *****-fetish
cult mate
he genuinely loves them; ask Ahab
they are gifts to mankind the true angels of the every
morning's awakening prophecy
will tell ur story & u will l live
leaves ten on the bar, walking out & up the her mother did the same thing when she got to america & she
hasn't seen her since
street. she grabs her a sudden, urgent need purse & coat & runs after
him catching up to him up the street; where
are u from she says, he says new york city, she says
she's from Costa Rica; he obviously doesn't care she wants to see what
he writes, like read
it & he stops & says no way but u can hear me
read it; let's g o she sai d but they don't get far;
she knows him from
another life &recognizes
his scent easily his primal
pheromones lighting
up her senses; she pushes in on him & he leads
her down an alley to a door balanced open w/
a bottle, he pulls her inside onstage a guy is
telling old Flip Wilson jokes doing the female parts
& the poet pushes
his gf down in a chair
that breaks & she gets
another one & sits staring as he takes the spotlight
in the smoke congeste d subterranean underground
backdoor after-hours cabaret; u said u were a
stripper he read, darker than the go-go bazaar but w/ a hot spotlight poin ting at the black corner that was the stage
she had said nothing but he knew
she was a stripper & h
e had seen her red body
in the red light every night for hours on end & all of her friends
filled w/ scars & he watched
her dance naked almost embarrassed & red & cold
in the unnatural air & he just sat there making
blind sketches looking away & thinking of various
things from the Pope to outer space & he
had gotten he barely seemed to
notice her swaying there beside him;
& walked out as soon as she noticed him, as soon
as she broke the fourth wall as if she were an actress but
of course he did
& coming off the stage accosted a member of the audience
& staying in c haracter as he read she got up in front
of the punk poets assembled in the dark and shucked her coat
to stand naked and
began to dance to his poetry;
he barely seemed to notice her
