The
broken backs of our most viciously worried books
The
mild mise en scène a milky mess O still cocktails
At
nine o’clock and all the embrittled telegrams
Stitched
in your mother’s worn stilettos and in my
Father’s
weary Stetson we adore them we light
The
kindling of such a glorious fire on the beach
And
your sweet shady blonde hair tangled
Like filigree etched on the tower of a desert mosque
Architectures
of such intricately silent semaphore
Such
a phenomenally vast and stunned sky
Such
quizzically blue eyes turn in this frozen moment
And
where are we when Canaan calls us?
Where are we when the desert of our awful love
Stops
to rest here in this beautifully foregone feeling?
1 comment:
Blondes are the shit. Maybe I should bleach my hair again. It is a scientific fact from the fashion magazines that blonde people are rarer and more special, from Norway and Sweden. Also they can communicate with animals and children better and they get higher salaries at their jobs and whatnot. Also when they die in fires they leave behind a silvery kind of residue that can cure a lot of diseases, like epilepsy and gout. I am surprised that nobody farms blonde people illegally and sets them on fire to cure diseases. Maybe that is what Sweden was for originally, I don’t know I don’t know anyone who has been there. Maybe it wouldn’t be safe to bleach my hair. Unless I bleached it and put another color over it like pink, but I think I read somewhere that pink haired people are more likely to die in fires accidentally, as opposed to somebody setting them on fire. Like their lungs shut down sooner than other hair colors. I forgot where I read that. You know what would be a funny thing to say at a party: ‘Did I ever tell you about that time I was molested? Just kidding, it was consensual.’ I bet a blonde wouldn't even get that shit, though.
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