Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Le Debutante



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Le Debutante by Vic Lee

Le Debutante
After the painting by Vic Lee

It seems that even Batgirl was a victim of the fallout
left  in the wake of the inexplicable Honey Boo Boo--
an attempt by Commissioner Gordon to shield
his little girl Barbara with the vestige and trapping
of "every pretty girl’s life". Thus the Beauty Pageant.

Or perhaps, captured,  a young Betty Kane endures
the mad torturing hatched by the cackling Joker, laughing
over an unseen record playing Debussy’s Arabasque #1.
How else do you explain the subdued flamingo's legs flopping
like curtain tassels at her tip-toeing waltz around the checkerboard?

Or maybe a nightmare which woke Cassandra Cain, interim Batgirl:
an image of herself mid-pirouette, ponytail hanging as if forever
frozen, smoke from  a pastoral cottage sewing simultaneously
every frill on her country gown, her assassin’s eyes are softened
by the futile search for her father’s approval in the indiscernible crowd. 

Whether you’re Betty, Barb, Cassie, or Steph under the mask
doesn’t matter; you were made to boost ratings so stuff
yourself in a dress and accept the identity we create.

by: L. Raymond Andrews

Becoming Gray and Reliving


Old men move like rounded
rocks in a swift river and stare
with eyes like January--

eyes that look at what will be as what has been
From porches or park benches, reliving
They say,  “Seems like

yesterday I spun wings from the slender
dusky sun, and shattered the midnight moon!”
Today, piecing together a “Starry Night”

Yesterday, we, when the daylight trailed
into twinkling, pricked ourselves with spinning
stars or moon shards, slipped

into the myopic closing of spaces,
rendered fingertipping and gravity
into distended pulsing

Today you lie
dormant, dressed by scattered
sunlight and breezes

the cloudy pathos of yesterday evaporating
like rain from the sun-aged
sidewalks of our twisted minds

Today I am puzzled,
spread out on the table,
trying to pen our sheets to a line

hanging as whitely as regret hangs
on in the wind.

by: Raymond Alistair
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJWMobdyk41AR4MIBFAvPyhuYHl0ZsCwRt9FncNo_LsrpmX6XWjk3wWdbeebYorN_I2OrRKdDLlpJwh8WXSDpPmw7jcZWvCNZjWCxGP-ngcg_cqcLI-6SZwL3BzzjOoZbJekqdJyFaG1o/s1600/janus_1.jpg
Janus