Long Mantilla Poems

 The Elysian Baby Feels Lament… 

        for Katy Perry……with  manifold marigold “feels”

              ...

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IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY - LXXVII

IF ever I had a country proud of its wall-less porous boundary

And if ever by no mistake of the Supreme High Command of the International Militaro-Business Conspiracy I...

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I have been told that I need to grow up,
The bulletin just arrived on my desk that
I have issues manifold,
To share this drink an ineffectual cup,
Perceant words heard before hope's sliver of a door closed...

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JOURNEY- 1995

Weren’t we hauling ass?
The sheep, the olive trees, sentinel windmills,
the woodlands and fields, the rivers, the creeks,
the undulating topography like the musical score
of a landscape melody riding on the rhythms of
a percussion ensemble of...

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My manuscripts are hers.
I find no solace in puddles, 
 no security in single, silver spoons.
She is there, always.
 
 My breath is not safe.
Her ghosts floats out in puffs,
that so go to the very...

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Good Father Saez was right about the rain.
It didn't beat against the wooden door.
Without the rain their carriage they could gain,
and Jose made his way down tiled brown floor
to seek the colonnade and stay not...

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They struggle with a violent grace,
the bawdy cries of a bandoneon,
the open gash of her torn stocking.

They both understand
that naked desires come last,
first there is this ceremony,
the ritual goading
white flesh and dark shadows
must be rubbed
with...

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They struggle with a violent grace,
the bawdy cries of a bandoneon,
the open gash of her torn stocking.

They both understand
that naked hopes come last,
first there is this ceremony
the ritual goading
white flesh and dark shadows
must be rubbed
with...

Read More

They struggle with a violent grace,
the bawdy cries of a bandoneon,
the open gash of her torn stocking.

They both understand
that naked hopes come last,
first there is this ceremony
the ritual goading
white flesh and dark shadows
must be rubbed
with...

Read More

Limerick crochetés: Once our Señorita from Sevilla – XV

Once our Señorita from Sevilla
Came to Paris on a flotilla
She stepped out on high deck
Slipped and twisted her neck
Guess what happened to her mantilla

She stood under five...

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Limerick croises : Once our ‘Rita jumped into Sea Anne-Anne – 14

Once our ‘Rita jumped into Sea Anne-Anne
Sirens howled « panic stations » refrain
One Valhalla Rani
Offered her much money
For a shot sans mantilla – in...

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Her dark eyes, sultry and steamy
Flashed a sideward’s glance 
From beneath the black lace of her Mantilla
He gave her a browse 
A more appraising look altogether
Her eyes flashed up again
A lingering languid glance
Which spoke of...

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