When Lisa told me she had made love
Another, in the life of that phone booth
Tepeyac store , I thought the world
He had for me. A tall skinny guy and
With long hair and a long dick that did not wait
Over an appointment to penetrate to the bottom.
There is something serious , she said , but
The best way to get you out of my life.
Parmenides Garcia Saldana had long hair and had
Been the lover of Lisa , but some
Years later I learned that he had died in a psychiatric clinic
Or that he had committed suicide . Lisa and I did not want
Go to bed with losers. Sometimes I dream
With her and see her happy and cold in Mexico
Designed by Lovecraft. We listen to music
( Canned Heat , one of the preferred groups
Parmenides Garcia Saldana ) and then we
Love three times . The first came inside me
The second came in my mouth and the third , just a thread
Water , a short fishing line, between my breasts. And all
In two hours, said Lisa . The two worst hours of my life,
I said from the other side of the phone.
Tag Archives: την τέχνη
camomile artist
this voice of the river
pressed wavelets to the hull,
kisses gentle
as the heat of day waned,
there is an island
he took himself to
and revealed not to many,
his sister stretched her hand
to the surface,
his obsession that yellow obsession
of scrawled canvas
becoming painfully light
each coming and passing day,
his work confessional
to a degree that
his lips where bitten into scabs
and fingernails worn,
absinthe stained his teeth
and confounded the workings
of an already fractured mind,
he wanted to show
one person the accommodation
crooked walls hung with works
salons would faint at,
not his usual pastorals and portraits,
this was a diminished reality
with a lot of truth
his sarcasm would not yield
afraid of her reaction
progressed slowly
yesterday still had a grip,
he could not release
approaching jetty
tremors worked in his arms,
breathing quickened,
when the moon set
he would be revealed
and her pain would be no loss,
when the rains came
he would return alone
clouds would cover the moon
and deny reflection and illumination
there was a lot more to be done
John Singer Sargent – Autumn on The River 1889
Alexander Rodchenko, Vladamir Mayakovsky – Galoshes Persia 1925
Rodchenko, Mayakovsky
Galoshes advert 1925
Alexander Rodchenko
Advertising Poster urging to buy galoshes:
“Galoshes by Ruber Trust are the best.
They are worn in the north, south and west”
Made by Ruber Trust
1920’s
Text by V. Mayakovsky
Interesting piece of advertising in Persia
descent and decay
iron blanket drawn
over graveyards shoulder,
time grizzles in the wind,
on haunches leaving flowers
new ones that repair the vase
to a certain brightness,
tattooed hand
pores darkened by labor
fingers stained by cigarette,
a tear would not fall
enough had shown at the time,
those fingers took a kiss
pressed it to headstone
no inhibition
despite the rumors that had become
a fiction contorted on nights breath,
driven within hours
in a landscape changing
mesh of community falling
into disrepair,
his longing had seen violence
memory carried weapons
and he could only think of
retribution,
slate wiped of all marks
that defined a normal history,
he still had a key
that room there own,
now cleansed and let to someone
else,
he visited sometimes
walking amongst others possessions
picturing his own
and her blood
scarring the walls
gardens in a candlelit room
i take a hammer
and a nail
to my brother and sister eye,
one gazing south
to shared sand of desert and sea,
other north
through motorcycle lens
to fields of open pleasure,
my visceral concern
is not getting lost between both,
naked to contradiction
my form is seen
bare paleness of a wanting moon
sand still tasted between teeth,
without movement and sound
to the board of memory
each eye nailed
swiftly
so there is no gelatinous collapse
blinking obscura of pain,
i now want
flesh cold
still pale
not written upon by her lips,
hammer has fallen
indenting ground
taking root
Andrew Wyeth Man and the Moon
velvetmedia 