shepard fairey



ras

ras

ras


ras

ras

ras

ras

gustav dore

our boys

death and burial

wm

Saturday, March 13, 2010

I Danced With Baudelaire


beneath a lemon sky, in
a muslin shift and boots.
He was no hoofer, that was certain,
but he was game. As was I in
those halcyon days before
they came to drag him away.
Scribes from the future, fire
belching from their hands,
these men with no mouths to sing
took him, and held him
at their home away in the sky,
until he ceased to speak
to them at all.


No comments: