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Saturday, April 2, 2011


Through my research of Paris in the 1930's, I found the nocturnal pleasures of Paris luring me to want to learn more about it. A whole universe lived under the cover of darkness, a shower of violet sparks. Could the mysteries of another way of life be devoured simply by reading about it or does it have to be lived to truly understand it? Is it out of necessity or out of want?

“The artist never entirely knows. We guess. We may be wrong, but we take leap after leap in the dark.” Agnes De Mille

The Secret Femme of Paris

Is it night time yet, kiss curl?
devourer of the dark,
gray smoke spiraling,
scavenger doves
picking at the cobble
stone streets,
white breasts skimming
black tuxedos,
enchanting beguine.

A towering gas lamp
a beehive of artists and
buzzing and proclaiming
Parisian mysteries--
dance halls and cafes,
blood-red lights
reigning Joan of Arc.

Flowing incense from far away,
surreal portraits,
cubism countries,
impressionistic policies,
loves’ debauchery,
poetic prophesies
of a frenzied city spinning
in a tornado of coquetry.

Is it morning yet, naiad ?
The naked silence of drunken bodies
mirrors the sumptuous
sacrifice to the Sapphic alter,
a warm cayenne current
rippling to a slow
fidelity of affairs.

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