Saturday, February 09, 2013

My hands press down upon your willing haunches


Bug. Douglas-Apsley National Park, Tasmania's East Coast. January 2013.

Another day, another bushfire(s). Why oh why are we forced to choose between pleasant swimming weather (plus bushfires) and miserable wet days (minus bushfires). I mean, really, it is so uncivilised...

The Skirt, Guillaume Apollinaire

Hallo Germaine that's a fine skirt you have
A fine skirt for a queen A cruel queen
Let's feel the silk of it Silk from Japan
And trimmed with wide lace made on no machine

Your skirt's a silken bell whose double clapper
Your legs have struck the passing of my fancies
O Germaine now I ring it my breast heaving
My hands press down upon your willing haunches

Your bedroom O my bell is a fine belfry
My hands touch silk and seem to tear my ears
Those pegs are gallows on which skirts are hanging
Those hanging men are dazzling my eyes

Motionless as an owl the oil lamp watches

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