Saturday, September 3, 2011

A Love Poem for Angry Romantics

¡Hola!  Everybody... 
I've made some esthetic changes to my blog in preparation for a flood of raging political articles/ (new) stories/ rants/ and the rest of the catastrophe. LOL I'm hoping to make the blog much more interactive and, seeing as I'm now basically "self-employed" (really: unemployed), perhaps add some (social purpose) ads. 

I'm also considering taking the leap and committing the next year toward completing at least one of my two works in progress (and doing a "Raskalnikov"). I might not be able to pay the rent, but maybe I can crank out a book. Stay tuned as you will be subjected to the dynamics of this adventure! LOL 

Today is Saturday and it's all about the arts... 

* * *

Nows [No. 26]

A quarter to eleven 
East Village.

We are sitting like a sandwich
at a tiny table.

A sunny afternoon spent
groping out-of-town strollers,
and the light touch of
our thighs sends back
"Oh yeahs," "Wows,"
and "Look-at-thats."

It is a flirtatious appraisal
meant only to be
the very gentlest of rapes.

So we sit,
separate but in touch,
letting the silences 
that pass between us
serve as unasked-for approvals
of our mutual window-shopping,
our fleeting joyful adulteries.

  -- All rights reserved

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