Erotic PoetryFrom a Box of DreamsAs I opened that slim volume of Cixous,
a bookmark emerged
and fluttered to the floor like a moth,
exhausted
from hovering all night
around the light at the foot of the stairs.
I picked it up—a ticket for Le Métro—
and like a madeleine dipped in tea
a vision, struck
not from memory but desire,
saw the two of us holding hands
in the Tuileries
watching the toy sailboats, marking time
until we could once again
test the sturdiness of our iron bed.
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Everything
is in place, supports what the poem intends. I was wrong in previous comment. Awesome
Top shelf as usual, Tzara.
"watching toy sailboats, marking time
until we could once again
test the sturdiness of iron beds."
sounds better to me, but perhaps more than one iron bed is my id exagerrating yet again its virility.more...
5 btw
appears to be too much off the page, not the wasteland, bring it back just a little more, lovely moth thing (loaded). Of course i could be totally wrong.
BEDS ARE ALSO FOR SLEEPING
as well as some gymnastics, TK U MLJ LV NV
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