images to music

how funny. the phrase "black widow" came to mind and then the next song on was from a ballet, called "the merry widow".

i suppose a black widow could also be a merry widow.

i didn't understand what it was when it was said
muffled, incoherent but true. i like you, and i
like having sex with you followed with a dull doorstop
cutting off the fingers of the mummy, come to life
but i heard it still, spoken softly, in the night
i heard the words
denied the next day, denying me every day, i remembered
tonight that this was said and i know now it was sincere
i had the words in my heart, and you knew it by the
tears running down my cheeks with a kiss
taxi streaming yellow light all the way home
"nothing" i said. how silly of me, i thought
you didn't khow long i had been waiting
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finalmente, "at last, my love has come along"
ballad of bravado, curtain calls, long embrace
rushing into the starbucks, warming by coffee aroma
someone was pushing me down that sidewalk
someone else was following close behind
eyes from the skyscrapers watching as i ran
stopping only to look at the flowers from the vendor
or the salon for a manicurist's hours
green umbrellas opened for me
i was lily of the valley under the green
they came for me, tired of the perfume
tired of the bells ringing in their ears, they came for me
down to the sidewalk, pushing eachother forward
castigate, diseminate, if i tried
hard enough to assimilate, to be part of the group
i might not die even if my spirit departed from me
how many ghosts roam the streets, the plain streets
of downtown d.c. how many of us in long coats
having left so much behind, souls perhaps
in exchange for the car calling attention
and the popular vote. so many ghosts in coats
wafting through, blending in with the bleeding
hearts and few live wires...keeping cool,
paying notice to the meters and scales and numbers
making the grade, like eggs in a plastic carton
cage-free hard to come by
i have noticed those who were shivering the most
had the brightest eyes and the warmest hearts
what do we do to keep ourselves warm?
what comforts do we draw out of ourselves
to shadow and shelter, clothe the witness
the contender, and the friend
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i iknow my poems and images have been lousy lately and a bore, but i can't say i've felt that creativity and inspiration streak...maybe with the health stuff going on? i don't know. i can't force it but instead, i dare to write commonplace stuff. feel i should keep writing regardless, despite lack of surge of creativity. maybe there is something in it for someone else
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to Eugene Onegin , "Love Duet" and "Lensky's Aria"

ballet shoes tied together by the ribbons
hung lightly over a post in the wall
heavy feet making an assumption real
blessing me, bent to kiss a bare part of me
the immaculate conception, shielded from
every stain of sin by love
taking the risk to die as one
knowing something would change, be exchanged
willing to bear the cross
of me
willing me to live as you live and breathe
life embedded in duality
in my ring, in my palm
etching out by design a place for us
criminal minds cutting the ribbons
keeping a piece for souvenier
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olga moiseyeva, balerina performing "the dying swan", by camille saint-?, 1972, made me cry. beautiful. truly touched.
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bless me father, or hell, kiss me
dance with me, but tell them what you know
you can forgive one soul
or bless and save two lives with souls
a baby and a mother
a mother whose lips you kissed
a mother who bore her child alone, suffering
who took on the sins of the world for at least one moment
and who laid her son across her breast
as you were held by your mother
the other redhead, the irish waitress,
the dark italian mistress,
your intentions were never clear
a man of the cloth i would tear
the buttons off, and you spoke to me
knowing from the first who i was and who i'd been with
he told you about me, sean connery
what do you have to say for yourself young man?
standing at the altar with open hands
catch the tail feathers and swing this thing around
be a part of my son's good fortune
prove me wrong, do it out of resentment
prove to me that you are a man of God
a Samuel who could do no wrong
hearing your name spoken out loud
while staring at my thong
you ran to me. you did not walk. you ran.
that last time you came to me, you were running
wet with perspiration after i'd made what I thought
was a grisly public confession
save me with what you know
you know i know
you know
give up the ghost, father, bless me
were you healed? after you kissed me
after we danced...were you healed.
bless me father, and bless my son
we do not want your prayers
when God knows you hold one of the keys
to this mystery
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the best spies in the world pick their noses
i knew one who could barely stay awake
but listened to me, absent-mindedly picking his nose
eyelashes fluttering, head nodding
stunning woman in the corner
wearing a headband, golden hair
penetrating and beautiful dark eyes
they acknowledged one another when we walked into the lobby
a golden calf
a nation would fall for her
she is one of the best and i knew she was the boss
you were close to me but she knew me better
sized me up and i've no idea what impression i made
if any at all, other than that of a woman
crying over her son
she was smiling, watching me from a distance
i don't know if my tears
were enough to satisfy her curiosity
i pick my nose too, but i've never been so tired
to do it so much. perhaps it was in imitation of me
perhaps it was out of exhaustion
i left to my own apartment after telling him
i was carrying a new child
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clapping in a circle, heads bent down and then raised
women dancing together in colorful skirts
throwing out a fan throwing out a hidden color
showing a slip and garter
religious as a rainbow and the sun
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what is real?
spikes of a heart on monitor
rise and fall of the breast
mountains of snow and valleys of green
billowing clouds blown out
through a glass fire
rode a horse through the canyons
formations of rock
dragging a razor over wrists
i am alive and this is reality
he watched the blood drain
she held her own hands
rocks cutting his legs on the climb
losing his grip on the way down
up and down, her happy-sad face
his attention span short as a commercial
if the blood is on his shirt
will he feel the pain and remember
if she is tasting the blood
herself, drinking from the cup
is he repelled
bringing the wrists down on
both sides of her face, from her hair
down to her chin
pass by my door angel of death
i am the sacrificial lamb
she said
dangling her feet as she swayed
holding onto a chandelier
threw her weight onto the dinner table
disgrace and triumph
real is real
traced a finger through the pool
one over a vein
feeling for a pulse
at the crack of dawn sunbathing
with a towel over her head
somnelance and surity in
crimson tide
he picked the seaweed out of her hair
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i think i'll have to see the movie "a star is born" from 1937, saw a clip and liked it. like classic movies. betty davis stuff and audrey hepburn--cary grant movies...the writing in the older movies is wonderful
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a child's bracelet
slipper fins feet
snorkeling in the deep
the giant tortoise swam by
the accidental tourist
found buried treasure
in the schools of fish
shining like coins with
eyes and wings
super mario brothers dream