I gazelle-leap in two step beats.
Your rum and coke breath flies fast and deep.
Six flights to allen’s flat.
I may need to hug your stocky hand to precipice.
You’d like that.
“Kneel at my feet,” you howl, “I will choke you with my charm and set loose the poem I wrote for your curly locks. Hey! (In fact!) Let me grab one now as I am slowly slipping off my high horse.”
Allen pokes playboy-tail with rolled-up st mark’s program.
I yank from above.
We will haul this mad yak to ginzy’s temple in record time!
But your shrine hosts newly drawn snapshots -
Sketched mental notes.
I can breeze through your mind and other cool places,
sit on your lap while you tell tales of minstrels long ago
Beating time with tongue and drum
Howling truth into ears of the oblivious
The sheets are clean and there is enough rum to drown a shipload of pirates.
How can I say no to a man
whose best and only pick up line is his surname
whose plopped lovebomb rattles poet heaven
whose twisty antics drive men ditsy
whose unrhymed palaver shoot a gal’s knees weak?
O Corso I love you!
I want to kiss your clank and eat your thunder.
Put a lollipop in your mouth
carve your name
on my bare ass
Corso slept here.
Track you to tangiers.
Two thumbs out on the highway to poetic passion.
Please don't leave me with Orlovsky.
He is mad and his comic books are scary!
Wail for CORSO
for CORSO is dead!
Wail for CORSO wail!
But what will we do with your bones
and that beautiful tale?
Christine says: "I am a NYC performance poet. I produce and mc a few shows for the Bowery Poetry Club in Manhattan, like the NYC College Slam, Love Poetry Hate Racism, and Bowery Kids. I teach poetry, creative writing, and composition at Westchester Community College. And although I'm of eastern European gypsy descent, I can be seen swinging around town with Niall O'Leary's band of wild Irish dancers performing at all the NYC hot spots, including Symphony Space, BB Kings House of Satisfaction, and all the real Irish pubs in NYC."