Another FractureAnother FractureI walkedto the Summer Garden,brushing my fingersacross the green heads of lions,baring fangsalong a gate of iron.Rain gently fell whileI crept through the exitinto the Summer Garden.Though the summer heat grew fat,pebbles crunchedbeneath my feetlike cracking ice.The grey sky hid Godfrom the marble gods below.Naked bodieswith dropletsdripping along their white skin,hanging from fingers, breastsbecame slickand reflected my face.In a circle stood twelve chairs,each backglass.Bubbles and flecks of color,floated as if in water,and the forestlike plates of iceon the Nevacracked,swam away inside the pane.Looking at the Summer Garden,I couldnt think about the West,but hoped that here I toocould shatter,that Russia wouldput me back together.Другой РасколЯ пошлав Летн
Sofia - V.2Sofia Petrovna plays Apollo(novich)s LyreNotes trickle down, but not like water, not crystalline and chaste.They bleed from stone façades in globs of yellow paint as Sofia plays,bedecked in phony beauty marks, jewels that bend and burn the light.By golden candelabra, kindled costume hues invite, Sofia play!Notes gallop past the factories, provoke as far as Palace Bridge,seducing through the scarlet hush of strikers hymns Sofia plays.They linger in the islands, in the jaundiced rot of mornings vapor,pick at peeling scabs of poorly pasted yellow paper. As Sofia playsthe minutes bleed away, dying colors for their double life:a masquerade of giggling shadows that mark the time Sofia plays.Sardine cans ticking in the corner, in the desk, inside your gut.A bomb, I howl the hour of disasters clock, wound by Sofias play.
Climax of a Jane Austen NovelCLIMAX OF A JANE AUSTEN NOVELCool mezzanine in marble nightRetreat from festivities insideTwo silhouettes-----and
And the intimate possibility of life!Dripping, dipping-----pausePurring, pampered feline in the sunChilled banister to burning fleshRaising goose bumpsParting, starting-----pauseRigid as a hare, the hunt begun.Lips slick, contradict uncertaintyPersuasion shining by pearlescent moonEyes locked invasivelyHers betraying welcome of this bawdy boon(And his the affability to swoon)Danglingin arms so strong and embracingwith fire racing through thighs and wombhow many daysdecadescenturies to soon!?Respectfully
neglectfully-----pauseThe knight withdraws, a child shy from companySilk gloves, lace shrugtidy, though inside completely undoneBrocade vest, formal best, for a bow and frightened emotional regressGood evening, Madame-----pauseBoots clicking on the tile down the hall
A Little Night MusicA Little Night Music</i>When Im with you,I question death.Youve lain quiet far too long.This ritual lustjustD. C. al Codaanswering queuesfrom the Great Composer.But I manipulate too:pull your strings,tighten screwsI can make you sing again.I unlock your coffin,stroke my fingersdown your long, long neck,long for you to nuzzleagainst my cheek, my head,how you always dowhen my fingers tracethe hollows of your chest,your sienna sides an hourglass.Ive been addictedsince I first plucked youto the vibrato of your bodyas I grip your bow,the taut, pale hair,and release deep,glissando tonesin shameless crescendo.Moan your arietta breath,falling lifelessly again,dreaming of ourD. C. al Coda.
Nominative VacationNominative VacationVacationing to tropical Gerundsuggests my situationLocative locations and accusative destinations:Youre the object of my infatuation,progenitive genitive of elation!You provoke such dative evocationstoO, Vocative!A case inspiring the provocative:Touch me! she says. Its imperative,instrumental to employ the proper conjugation!No!Brothas an sistas of tha congregation,All ye of 2nd person denomination,If you perfect each aspect of yo soul,You conditionly ignoTha present tense troubles of aw nation!Before bowin to subordination,lets coordinate a conjunctive rebellion, forall wanted men and supporting actorsprove principle participles in our endeavor.So if you wanna join in, come on!Just forget your prescriptibitionsDrop a dangling preposition!Cross yourself.Cross your ts.Cross contamiblaminate your parts of speak.Stop worrying bout wher
Sofia Plays Apollo's LyreSofia Petrovna Plays Apollos LyreLeningrad sits astride the Neva, frozen in time,a haunting mélange of pale hues, glorious façadesand teeming ghosts.-Serge SchmemannWatery notestrickle downdrops of musicdrops ofShe plays in the yellow dress on yellow earthShe plays and the lanterns burnShe plays Concrete flesh crawls Pillars ache and arches howl rippling with each drop ofShe plays The wallpaper rots fresh-unboarded eyes recall