Sunday, October 27, 2013

Dans l’estomac de la Loire

The river swallowed
her, turned
her into a bolus, slid
her into a slow stomach in
 the middle of pre-primeval Nantes.

    And waited.

      Time churned, silts settled,
       her tender toes now tap twenty
        thousand leagues beneath
        the Jules Verne Museum beneath
        a dancing salon named
         Sea of
            Her serpent twines
              expectant near her cunt – ou,
                       disons-nous, near the école élémentaire
                                    named after Gustave Roch, scholar
                                        of surfaces topological until he
                                          died untimely in the coils
                                           of tuberculosis . . .
                                           Her nipple
                                          perks the Palais
                                          des Sports de  Beaulieu,
                                            where Real Madrid played
                                                PAOK Thessaloniki
                                                    in a beautiful ’92

Image: le jardin, by Max Ernst. For other stories it inspired,
see Magpie Tales.


  1. Hip and intelligent write...always a treat to see you at Magpie, Kathy...

  2. ha. really like the structure of this and how it plays into the poem...very nice...

  3. One of the best poems Ive read today. Kudos to your words. :)

  4. this is way where the pic took you... what a


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