by Rene Dommage
The dance, on the flaming park casts its
multicolored flowers
the trees are singed,
irradiated,and the sonorous roaring of
crazed and homesick blacks.
Nervous tangos, harsh brass, choke the soft
rustling of the satin that paws the grass.
What exhausted smiles,by the shadow
of complicit copses, beneath the surprise
of kisses
consent and swoon. a saxophone
weeping long and very tender
plaints, sooth with its breathless
rhythm the excitement of furtive
embraces
Passer-by, pick up this handkerchief, fallen
from a warm bosom this evening,
hidden under the ivy.
Two red lips signed it in the make-up
of their cool design, delivering up
its secrets for you, the perfume of
a naked throat and the mouth of an unknown woman.











--
T-shirts for sale: [link]
--
maybe tomorrow...
Previous Page12345...Next Page