Correct Vision with Rhythm, apply liberally

I like shaking my tits;
she’s watching me dance,
shimmy the world away.
There’s freedom,
on the dance floors,
in America these days.
Lost in the rhythm
between the beats,
there’s easy smiles
and sloppy desires as we’re
emptied out, staggering,
upon more equal streets

I’ll let you tattoo
this Chronic heart,
while my wordy lips
read your angel parts,
taste a hungry tongue,
feel your softened hip.
The throaty murmur,
of an angel’s refrain,
“She’s got another earth.
She’s got some other sky.”
We danced there once,
and made Sappho cry.

I have auspicious tents
of Baily’s Pearls, set aside,
for this dark world girl;
not for her song
of Goddess skin, or
her serrano curls,
but for her being;
which grew gracious,
against a hard white wind.
She’s been my sister,
a sweet silhouette;
a figgy desert oasis.

Thu, 19 Jan 2006