Friday, May 4, 2012
I want to eat through this lace like a moth, Such a beautiful damask, my friend, but, this awkward stuffiness is binding, and there is an eye-hole for each pinch, flutter, and nibble. You ask me a question with each swig of memory my head raised you joggle my eyes, I reorient myself, still dizzied. you don't remember anything- even though you were there. Let us read the words of the already deceased, That is to say, there would be nothing more forthcoming, from you, from them, you would be- soundless as a headstone.
Tickle your toes. . .
where are my garden gloves to weed out your evils? where are my rubber gloves to scrub off your stupid? where are my surgical gloves to cut ...
"do not argue. please stay silent. smile and nod. remember etiquette first. do not speak. unless spoken to. no opinions please." y...
I swing in a mini skirt and pill box hat, cat-eyes and pompadour hair, wild in my Stiletto-heeled shoes- and I skulk in a monk dress with th...