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| Blood Reign 50 x 23 cm |
AEGEAN BLUE
A tallish girl
hair lifting as she spreads olive oil
on a
mosquito bite in this hurricane of light
the branches
of an oleander bush in front of some bungalows
hung with bikini
bottoms—no sign of tops anywhere—
one of the actual
bottoms they barely conceal
under the
shower inside and the girl of course she’s
singing and
the thin-voiced cicada is singing right back.
The Big Baby
Blue, a vast yacht mounted by a helicopter,
is tied up
in the harbor, a woman moving around on deck
and decked-out
in a turquoise bathrobe is
playing the
role of prophetic concubine. Drastically
hung-over will
she hang herself after making a
vatic statement?
Or maybe she’ll reveal her new
boob-job and
we, sipping our coffee, might even have
the courtesy
to say, “fascinating, darling,” and softly applaud.
Life is
good, it even permits one to walk around in a bathrobe
before
people like us, jaded, postmodern tourists, who watch her
the way intellectuals
schlep through a suburban shopping mall
when they should
be reading Proust or Hegel, or at least Hemingway—
pretty
much, in other words, with zero degree of commitment —
building
word bridges to Erehwon and actually being paid to do so.
Led Zeppelin - The Rover
I'm actually reading Proust at the moment; at a leisurely pace, interspersed with lighter fare - Jo Nesbo, or George Martin!
ReplyDeleteI read Proust many years ago and remember how he was an acquired taste. However, I think that his writings had the greatest impact on me of any other writer. Ken
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