Thursday, January 15, 2009

The honey resin.

Edward Steichen untitled photo (American 20th century)

(For my pal, F.A., out west.)

Song is the fantasy of all speaking:

Look and see, reading lips
That Sinatra was singing:
"The fire in your heaaaart"
with lopings rupturing those vein-blue lines
Grace restored all eyes to a state of,
Umber poisonous wax on sofa-like bumps
In today's night.

It is no longer used to hurt people;

Ready, but I mean, this soft uncrude stuff
Has been eliminated; now they say it's torture:
People watching with the mute button impushed
And all the candy on the floor from this time.

And all the candy on the floor from last time. 


F. A. Nettelbeck said...

so set 'em up Joe god damn man what a beautiful piece you done writ there man you always got that soul and sweetness of the long gone best of what was thee shit like Grace's cheeks spread across what we now call sky I love you bro

Bryan said...

I'ma say yr welcome with interest, my friend!

Bryan said...

By the way, F.A., you know that scene in Rear Window when Grace Kelly kisses Jimmy Stewart? It's shown in slow motion. Like Hitchcock was satisfied to torture himself in the absence of requited love. Grace Kelly might be my all time favorite.

Transcendent, that one!