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