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New Orleans
New Orleans
In boredom the den of swine reverberates
with the squeals of orgasm from the Northern troughs
among the garbage heaps as the city of music created
by the hands of men returns to the sea.
What mind dissolves the music turning musicians into
enemies of the state?
There is an old bitch who lives on the perimeter,
moving her wet
long judging finger across the coast
first in the warm onslaught of concepts then later in
the angry winds of the cold womb tide.
Chemical fingers from the shit yards caress each note of blues,
Jazz,
And tin pan alley rhythms,
Pulling the southern heart below the waterline.
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Lovely.
I'm still grieving my storm drenched harlot, wondering how everyone always claimed to adore my homestate and then left her face down in the sour milk of human unkindness. |
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Comment by: - 2006-03-23 11:27
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| wow, the imagery here is amazing. great writing! |
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| This is how poetry was intended to be!! Strong, real, true. Beatnik karma reincarnated in modern day americana - thank you for making my day |
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Comment by: Valerie - 2006-03-05 12:57
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Very wickedly effective prose. I believe that you've captured
the essence of New Orleans. Thank you for sharing this nicely
done portrait. |
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Comment by: Gary - 2006-02-25 19:58
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Yes, it is deep. Perhaps the best line of all is the final blow. Nice job of saying what most of us are afraid to say.
Marc |
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