apsara moves goldpowdered thighs thousandshimmering under a violet veil a false

apsara no doubt in a false hindu temple with lace-covered walls and a pagoda

canopy blonde pseudo-apsara laughing earning dollars during summer vacation

but when they want to they purchase all at once not just one romanesque

saint of the fragment of a statue but the entire church with stalls and portals

naves and niches this city has a river called the rio carlos charles

river and fast triangle sails swiftly slicing the sporty sunday blue

you can stroll until you drop along grass-green banks watching a neon

opal turn milk into ruby the structure of the prudential a platinum beehive

enters through your window in the dark for the obscure cube of night soon huffs

and puffs and sirens reclining on lilac cushions the lady from rajasthan

longs for her lover the coiled tip of the hookah resting in her languishing

right hand the left strokes a pearl ever so slightly above the unseen nipple

the other breast rises a soft hillock brushed by the locks of her hair

rubber beige eyes of the thug ordering more beer laughing coarsely

boxer's nose jokes with the lady who twitters and chatters next to him

in heat loudlipstick lips on the plaster face an old lady meowsmiling

at her beau flaunting toothpaste teeth flamingoes in the purple sunset

or was it a lunar clair-de-moon facing in a silver paraselenial flight of

herons anyway the moon-sun in the creamy silk sky eyes the long

supplicant entreating-look of the beauty of rajasthan only that sadfire anxious slanted

eye in her profile facing the absent beloved and on her head a petalpearl vibrillating

while the servant hands folded watches over eyebrows of pain that bitter dame

but madame smiles at her beau obscenely fetus-eyed and platinum-blonde

his voice raucous and rancid with beer sweat from vaseline and hair

our lady of tahull circa 1123 came from catalonia an entire church shipped

and rebuilt inside the museum the restaurant café budapest a boston institution

the lady reclines supine on the lilac rug ambiance and service

beamed ceiling and chandeliers provide an authentic hungarian setting

gold-winged butterfly the wing of crystal-gold veil cellophaning the amethyst

carpet her naked torso raised the fleeting line of the belly legs intertwined

at the ankles but the thighs round as a sitar gathered

in jade-colored fabric a small patch of peach flesh frou-fleeing above the line

of the navel the goulash and sauerbraten are unsurpassed pastries made right

here in our kitchens including our famous hungarian strudel and just steps away

krishna bathing amid the round-breasted gopis see him grab this gopi by

the arm and all gopis with a flower between their lips they came from the mountains in punjab

now look at the neon-yellow silkscreen of the prudential turning egg

white the flowering of rectangles breathing in the night four motionless

stars and a blinking dot the false hindu temple is right there the apsara

was jumping from donne to ferlinghetti but obviously had no idea what she

was talking about she was studying literature in college this silk spool that time

ravels and unravels and this is the book too a time spool that silk weaves

out from the black-and-blue car wreck a woman’s leg propped up on

the back seat a pointy shoe with high heels about to fall off and beer bottles lying

around a woman's slip on the windshield kienholz the american way