Thirteen Names
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Thirteen Women free porn video
Thirteen Women
1
Ivory bow
Atop an ivory head
Of hair parted
Like the Red Sea,
Down the middle--
Head red, also, from the blood
Of her wound,
A rose above the eye,
Making her weep.
Had she a body,
She might writhe,
But, decapitated,
She is meditative
Instead,
Taking it all in stride,
So to speak,
On her shelf
Upon the wall
Beside a window
Overlooking clouds
Like bandages
In a sky of blue,
Shaded and shadowed
With a coming storm,
The curtain, parted
To let the leaf flutter,
If it will,
To let the bell chime,
If it please.
2
Mermaid reclining upon
A divan
Golden, like her flesh
And the scales
She becomes
Below her hairless pubes.
She sleeps, dozing
Upon her island
In the middle of a carpet
Transformed
Into a green Sargasso Sea,
A waterfall
Of blue wallpaper
Behind her, streaming
Green meanderings
Of water.
She dreams
Of me.
3
Truncated woman,
Crimped at the gathering
Of the sternum,
Where the collar would meet
Were she not naked,
Armless,
Legless,
Headless,
Faceless,
Shaded alabaster
In the light
Of a candle erect
And stationary as a phallus,
Shedding more darkness
Than light
Upon the subject.
4
She stands
Or reclines--
It isn't clear which:
Are her hands
Upon his shoulders
A fending off
Or an embrace?
Is his hand,
Half the size of her thigh,
A caress
Or an insistence,
Uninvited?
Do we witness an act of love
Or lust,
Embrace or rape.
Lust or release?
It's hard to say,
With Magritte.
5
Golden girl,
Embodiment of the sun,
Daughter of the dawn,
Standing between red curtains,
Hand upon stone,
Your pedestal is not stone,
But an Amarillo rose,
The sea behind you
And the sky,
The former blue,
The latter gray.
But you golden,
Bright as the sun;
Despite your statuesque
Physique and the blank gaze
Of your eyeless countenance,
You make
Viewers
Into voyeurs,
And the sun rises and sets
Outside
The magic of your window.
6
Woman too big
For the man in your life,
Too big
For the room,
Taller than ingress
Or egress,
You are trapped inside
By the casual shrug
Of your shoulders
In a tight room
Black and red and green.
7
She stands naked
Before him,
His Galatae;
He has painted her
Head and shoulders,
Right arm and breasts,
Belly and thighs,
The shaded triangle
Of her sex,
Her claves and feet;
She stands complete
But for her left arm,
Which he has only just begun
To bring into being,
This Pygmalion
Of paints
Dressed in a suit and tie
And bearing an easel of paints
With which to paint
The birth of his Venus,
Ex nihilo,
Performing, once more,
The impossible,
Creating the perfect woman,
His dream girl.
8
Her head and torso are colored by the sky:
From the waist down she is the earth.
There is no father here, no god
But the animus within the goddess.
She leans upon stone,
Contemplative,
Barren, impregnable, serene, and safe,
Her only possible threat the sea,
Out of which Neptune could rise,
Frothy and green, with seaweed in his hair,
The briny deep within his loins.
9
The nude threesome
Are the graces
Or the fates,
Whichever group
Includes one who bears
A Goliath frog
Upon her back,
Despite her look demure.
10
She is homely,
But the purple satin drape
With which her companion
Is draped,
Instead of hiding him or her,
Makes the woman more visible
And somehow lovely.
Beauty concealed
Is beauty revealed
For beauty is in the eye
Of the beholder,
And to be is to be perceived.
11
A hat like the ladies
Wear in My Fair Lady
When Eliza is taken
To Ascot to see Dover
Move his bloomin' arse:
Veil unveiled,
Swept back to reveal
The corsage upon her face.
She is a flower,
Dressed in white,
Her face a blossom
Which defies gown and parasol,
Purse and hat,
The brunette coiffure,
The sky and sea,
And marble wall--
The purple flower rests
Upon its laurels
Green.
12
There has been a death--
A murder, perhaps,
And the men gather at the window,
Looking upon the maiden
Dead, a gash upon her head,
The guard with the club
And the dick with crossed arms
At the open doorway
Of the room in which she lies
Supine upon a divan,
Red as blood; a gentleman
Her husband or her beau,
Perhaps,
Stands at the gramophone,
Peering into its golden horn,
As if it were a cornucopia
Of harmony and melody.
The coroner may be coming soon,
Down from the mountains;
Until his arrival
There is time for the blues.
13
The thirteenth woman
Wears a nightie
Made of silk and satin
And a pair of fleshly breasts,
High,
Round,
Full,
Firm,
Delectable,
With strawberry nipples
And a matching pair of shoes
With toes and nails and heels
To give her height and life
When she goes to bed
With her breasts and the penis
And testicles she wears
Beneath the nightie
Made of silk and satin
And a pair of fleshly breasts.
Haven
- 05.04.2020
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