Sunday, February 2, 2014

pastiche











i bleed the sweet aroma of a hand-rolled 10 year old cigar ...
smoked alongside
the 70 yr. old delight of the master
of the hidden tuck, 
the trinket lost,
the lifted skirt ...
i inhaled
to the capricious amusement
of 
ghosts
and red velvet elvis paintings
and 
the subtle hand of a god
we are only vaguely familiar with 
draped in turquoise and crimson.
yield
to the demons ...
open - inhale
to honeyed redemption
sweet.
open. 
redemption.

2 comments:

  1. I love it. Now tell me why you chose that title.

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  2. ... Hope !! first, thanks for reading & commenting.
    ok, this was written after a night spent with Dave Stewart upstairs @ the burlington rooms. i wrote a rather longggg piece about him, a while ago
    ( and i'll hunt it down perhaps .. ) but it is sometimes, depending on the phase of the moon, the cheapness of the wine, the shadow of the music a rather surreal experience & it bombards the senses with history, sensuality, time, colors, light or the lack, dreams. Dave is sometimes a bystander, a director, an artist always, a puppeteer, a master of illusion & well, a hodge-podge of roles, a jumble of delights for the senses ; hence = pastiche. we smoked cigars.
    you must visit !!!! :)

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