Some death is musical, a candied apparition scalding the bones of Venus in soft chambers of silk and notes of smoldering silence. Advertisements
It was only when her thighs caught fire that he began to understand the laws of arson as practiced by goddesses imitating sirens.
Succubus to self, modeling Salome, dance of the seven deadly veils, thinned, to bare pleasure, and visitation rites.
Committing arson, five-alarm siren on screen– Louise Brooks, how you burned.
The man, to make a living, had plastered hundreds of faces upon walls, but there was something about this one which held him captive. It wasn’t just the stardom of her name, its siren-call, but the sheer magnitude of artifice, … Continue reading
A siren’s coin of slivered light beading the tunnel’s darkened maw; a long night’s journey into day fulfills the promise of a fabled arc.
In honor of Marlene Dietrich’s birthday (December 27th), my poem “Dietrich in Heaven.” Listen to the spoken word/music track here. Today I went to Heaven, just for a brief visit. It was a nice joint: tangerine-fleeced runways, and tufts of flamingo-pink … Continue reading
Beaten back by waves, Salvation’s mirage on shore– sailors dream of home.
A knowing last glance, no man can possess a myth– To wreck, grasping air.
