The Monroe DoctrineMonroe: a monolith on the landscape of American myth. White skirts billowing about her hips in an eternal updraft, melodious giggle carried on a breeze laced with wisps of Chanel No. 5. Object of worship and obsession and dark desires, after all these years still Hefner's creamiest slice of cheesecake. The effortless pucker. The slight tummy pooch. One can calibrate instruments from the placement of the beauty mark . . .The Monroe Doctrine
In no endeavor has my generation invested so much energy as in its attempt to establish an iconography to equal that of our parents and grandparents. There were giants in the earth back in their day, and rather t
Smoky Mountain SetbackDriving blind-curve Carolina pass fast too fast, you know, and reckless but darkness cuts travel time and you need speed, coffee plucks your nervestrings, sings in your eyes, you couldn't go slow if you tried, full moon at your back jacks you up like bad memory drivingSmoky Mountain Setback
Broken glass diamonds on the road in overloading headlight glare flare into sudden screaming ganglia twitch switch into reflex jerk on the wheel realtime stretches and snaps back smack across the eyes and you see three bodies split and broken
Smoke from wreck of pickup overturned &
A Lizard Girl He KnewShe had all the things he wanted: beauty, brains, a flawless sense of timing, and a positive mania for the old switcheroo, yet there was somethingA Lizard Girl He Knew
that called to mind the lizard, perhaps the jeweled eyes that never blinked, or the pink darting tongue that teased but never twined with his, but in any event,
it was enough for him to search her skin for emerging scales to peel one by one.
Everybody Wants to Be BukowskiMy friend J was just fired from her job teaching philosophy at a small Catholic university for not wearing her mortarboard, for defending the rights of prostitutes, for drinking Cuervo in the beds of pickup trucks in the shadow of the Alamo, for kicking out the jams, for taking young guitar players and old professors as lovers.Everybody Wants to Be Bukowski
I tried to tell her months ago, once you join the tweed brigade and hang letters from your ass, that's it -- no more scromping in the dirt, no more rockabilly stomp, no more flights to Amsterdam, Huntsville, Toronto,
Merry Christmas
luv ya!
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!cougar-ghi will come back in 2O1O as "~NEEKEEZH"
see my ART right now! I'm known as "magsart1 on photobucket
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Love is pwn. That is all.
Anybody seen my brain? Lost it somewhere between last night and this morning....
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"Doomsday device?...I suppose I could part with one and still be feared..."
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"Doomsday device?...I suppose I could part with one and still be feared..."
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