Great art is
inspired
by the sub-conscious,
she nonchalantly mused,
lying naked on
the pink comforter,
sipping Pastis and water,
head propped on her palms,
a tiny glowing sphinx,
reading poems
with Cleopatra lips.
I half listen,
knowing the words,
knees at her waist,
molding child-like
cleavages with id,
tracing illusions in
firm, tan sand of spine.
No comments:
Post a Comment