Antonia: “how to love openly is an Art. I do it best in my head, without you. Arms waving like banners in the land of used dreams.”

Julien le barman with a barman’s blues:

Louise & Arthur:

Psycho or poet..?

Noriko, in Japanese & English, “Open real”:

Notes from the (poetry) underground:
Tristan poked a whole through paper-doll people. Angel sang for the Bolivian soldier. Tom dreamt a Guacamole crocodile. Michele got himself a Sun tattoo. Troy’s words were all about glory holes and cruelty to cats. Stale cakes and bitter ale. Claire has the living wallpaper. Shadows of a Saracen. There was sexual tension in the library, undulating with boredom. And those cool blue sheets. Charlie was used up, washed up, cast off, put out, all gone, worn out, over. An algorithm of an air molecule. Noriko wondered how many hours awake I might be. Nicolas regretted his Brazilian bracelet qui se castre ses envies. Rosalia had a Brooklyn story. On the island of Manhatten everyone is an object of utility. I read Joan Brady’s Two Women from her new book The Space Between. Alberto threw a tiny teabag from the 14th floor. Jessica asks “Are you afraid I’ll take you back to where I left you long ago?”

Next Monday’s theme: Magic