New Poems by Fevronia Novak |
by Fevronia Novac |
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Gaga Oh là là or men’s wars c’est comme ça @font-face { font-family: "Times New Roman"; }@font-face { font-family: "Garamond"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1;?
Our Lady Gaga daughters
our daughters will grow up to be perfect artists like Lady Gaga they won’t fear the ridiculous Gaga Oh là là or men’s wars c’est comme ça they won’t let their lovers decompose too fast in their latex beds to become sand from tall skeletons by then they will be friends with men they won’t wait for them dressed like Catholic nuns boys with exotic names Alexandro, Fernando, Roberto coming from the dry mountains of Afghanistan their red hearts open on inlaid trays under a tall wet sky pouring snow over New York our daughters will not wear machine guns sticking out of their tits not even a lame sword they will dangle their burkas, their Kaldarash skirts or red dresses for their bad romances with one breath over the picture of death and rule the world
the bus is always too slow on your way home crawling through luxurious stores Nina Ricci, Versace, Jimmy Choo at the Rond Point des Champs-Elysées in front of the Grand Palais/Petit Palais? a marble skull grows white gigantic butterflies from his nose and from the top of his head while down the road at the Madeleine the red lights like a magic carpet invite your eyes in the patio shared by Chanel and Dior you’re a face like the others on this bus tired bored indifferent when the little match girl steps in with black garbage bags full of essential matter for sleeping outside she smells like the dirty sidewalks she lives on you’re certain she’s younger than she looks it’s your stop and you forget about her and all the other ones in your neighbourhood walking through imposing hôtels particuliers you can’t forget Walter Benjamin on 19th century Hausmann’s Paris and the commerce rivalling art how he ended his essay with a coup de tonnerre
treading in the shoes of his flâneur you see the inhabitants of these demeures growing giant butterflies from their noses and foreheads coming up from the realm of hell
The Granny on Rochechouart Street
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