Barefoot On Her Knees

563228_572059672805182_1722697608_n 9709_508994022467446_1554080842_n 12616_495355780497937_1421428173_n 21823_497702366929945_358887940_n 32412_498114596888722_1129878327_n 35890_496028183764030_910183059_n 44482_483339931699522_953891605_n 48250_479683508731831_1830912841_o 56664_478403248859857_480368137_o 75252_496073873759461_951193327_n 150626_468256576570721_492477446_n 155844_509191539114361_487935416_n 155973_488254231208092_682240366_n 197439_479316615435187_2073767298_n 209158_474936232539892_741453529_o 217840_496942473672601_2122851410_n 222491_481756448524537_207962647_n 222522_481757588524423_961735318_n687_481757388524443_452348798_n 281595_481757025191146_1796920704_n 282236_483639651669550_1978533125_n 304355_481757765191072_1419828671_n 316201_280490845317766_1418321377_n 386446_495275803839268_1669387445_n 399443_438187482881434_1810614984_n 417519_438189272881255_1528324292_n 420552_481763401857175_1503324413_n 430744_488920177808164_266636894_n 481730_498115656888616_126730906_n 530729_481756755191173_582774055_n 531236_438189486214567_1998653682_n 541118_481756281857887_1036903235_n 542604_496075443759304_769837710_n 546912_483339628366219_1413287115_n 549668_498966510136864_2095137826_n 550190_484592291574286_389922369_n 550210_481756888524493_1332240690_n 553237_438187659548083_652242148_n 556790_494111483955700_1933512396_n 561877_480512378648944_1992347106_n 574755_438189399547909_739920622_n 575572_438187512881431_1415391456_n 578516_481757225191126_325748728_n 598371_502156353151213_417564687_n 602509_480876001945915_582859413_n 602534_493301347370047_1835010542_n 735128_469240986472280_1541244434_n bbb ccc tumblr_mebukaD6Wg1r24e6ho1_1280 tumblr_meeq4uYIEm1r24e6ho1_1280563680_525684814161230_1895963777_n 625509_524864797576565_505532057_n 625540_586130291398120_1319706312_n61325_535854676425682_489146236_n

Picasso and Einstein taking up where twisted Freud and crazy Nietzsche left off, where Hitler went back to and where Sarah Palin wants to go—
Barefoot on her knees with mouth open,
Tongue out waiting to filled with the Holy Spirit—
I find it easy to imagine what the first moderns must have felt like watching the Belle Epoch drown itself in blood on the battlefields of the First World war, Pound and Eliot going mad and getting lost—

Picasso got lost in his cubicle, Einstein in his equations—
Hemingway got lost and found himself when Fitzgerald bought drinks for everyone, Eliot taking Holy Communion, Pound preaching fascism, Hemingway living and dying From a shotgun blast to the head years later—
Lorca taking it in the ass in the sultry Spanish afternoon,
Gunshots ringing out all around him—
Did Hart Crane write difficult poetry because he was a homo—?
Pound and Eliot wrote difficult poetry too,
John Cage writing difficult music that Merce Cunningham could dance too, Victoria’s Secret supermodels replacing Gibson Girls
In the imaginations of dead soldiers—
Betty Grable and Rita Hayworth surviving in the memories of whoever cared to recall their black and white beauty—
I prefer Betty Page to any Russian spy you can name—
There are thousands to choose from on the streets of Moscow
But Sarah Plain knows the ones that are good to go—
She can see them from her bedroom window
Turning tricks on the freezing corners—
But what I want to know is which ones are into bondage
And which only want to watch old American musicals
Because I know that Russian girls don’t understand Japanese cartoons
The way Korean girls do—
Tattoos covering their albino bodies—
Performing in staged gang bangs with the sons of Oligarchs
And switchblade carrying gang members for worthless rubles—
I think I know how the Modernists felt when they saw the decrepit Victorian society go down under machine gun fire and mustard gas—
Hitler emerged from the ashes and Stalin rose from the streets
Of Georgia to make a name for himself in Stalin’s pocket
And Trotsky died of a headache in between orgasms
Between Freda Kahlo’s surreal broken legs the way all Communists and Jews do, yes, I said that all Jews die between Freda Kahlo’s legs,
The red gash splattering their’ inert faces with her purple menses—
And from this reflection in the broken mirror of America
Jackson Pollack learned to paint In Benton’s shadow and Diego Rivera sucked Rockefeller’s dick in the high-rise elevator as it went up at rocket speed, Kennedy meeting Marilyn on the moon
As the Soviets flew by with robot precision
But it was too lat for Betty Page to open her legs
For the hustler to step inside and find Jesus—

Barefoot on her knees,
She opened her mouth to receive the communion wafer from the black priest, the Soviets not believing in Jesus,
But then who can deny the man walked the earth barefoot and celibate—
Did Jesus Christ masturbate on the hills overlooking Sodom
With the disciples looking on as if he were showing them how—
Did Mary Magdalene offer to do them all up on that hill as Satan looked on with envy—

740416_551147714896378_1748531566_o 857173_572374256107057_1791953772_o539570_600686873275795_546294901_n tumblr_mfp0ssj1NH1qa5hxdo1_1280tumblr_mkybljmG4R1s7lrcao1_1280


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s