It says 1921 in the picture
And I am smiling
But it’s not me anymore

All types of porn are horrific
I just watched a woman fuck a hired hand
In her marble kitchen while her friends looked on

What is between us
Is an orange flower

And it is blooming and blooming

What is going to happen
Is that it’s going to rain
Rain my love

Man in an Easter suit
Leans into me
To kiss me

Though It Be Foreign, Though It Be Terrible

 Water pools the roof into mirrors
thin as any, the storm lilting

Now that I am up here in the sky I can see
The mare di San Tommaso is a puddle of ink,
A hierarchy of imperial blue tints, tempting

Let them twirl a dance
Of shadows, she so graceful
In the hand over hand, he

Each day the purple clematis climbs further up the wire beside the kitchen door
Green fingers twine around the strands of wire
And soon there is another blossom with a yellow star at its center

I am falling into the abyss
My fate is sealed
What a cruel martyrdom