The Raven

Subject: Darcy Padilla from Drill Baby Drill, USA, 2013 Photographer: Lisa Kereszi Source: letaobloquista

Washer Woman

It’s dusty Sleepy Dying Here One main street in the middle of nowhere

A liquor store A quick mart A laundromat

One sun wizened woman with a rag Sharpened through the spotless Washer Door

No one washing No one drying No one folding

Just the washer woman Beating back dust.

-Skye

Source: thewitchywench

Cat in a Hat

On Brighton beach Where I often went Walking I came upon a Little black cat Sporting a top hat Looking out at sea

I watched this little soul So jauntily dressed For a water side stroll First in wonder Then in distress

Just where was His waistcoat and tie?

-Skye

Source: meryweird77

Hysteria

Straight Narrow Laced Up Tight

Bound by Respectability, domesticity, Mild virtuous Wife, mother, nothing more

Reflect, reflect Only wholesome Womanly airs

Do only proper Womanly things

Calling cards Genteel teas Birthing children Serving your Husband Father Brother

Reflect, reflect Only what is desired By others

But when you look in The mirror You see Your eternity and begin To scream

-Skye

Brassaï • Notre Dame Gargoyle-Paris, 1932

Source: afrouif

Brassai and His Conversation with a Gargoyle, 1932

Tucked into Paris between the two world wars

You came to me with the bright lights twinkling on softly rising city noises

And caught me in my common pose rain worn contemplative knowing nothing and everything

Yes, the photographer cried-

I saw this immediately the flash illuminated everything and nothing of you

How can that be old roof top friend that I only think of you in the rain

When in my grainy photo you are always here

-Skye

Image Credit: Shusaku Takaoka Source: angiefalaji

Saturday Night on the G Train, 1972 (As told by Old Joe at Valley Vista Rest Home)

Swaying with train car Home bound after a long night of drinking I was looking down At the dirty chipped and gummy tiles Feeling a little sick

I heard the door grinding open And she plopped down in a rustle of beaded lace Sitting legs spread wide Like a man with a come-hither body Topped in a rabbit fur coat Right there in the corner seat Almost across from me

I looked up Into Mona Lisa’s Smirking face

I swear it though no one ever believes me Don’t blame them 1972 was a rough one I really was fucked up back then

But there she was in all her glory That smile I will never forget

She asked me for a cigarette Just before the next stop

And when the doors opened Off she went Clomping a little in her righteous rhinestone platform shoes Right off the train, onto the platform And back out of my life.

Source: visualstatic101

Tides

Mooring lost Battered upon the sharp reef I could only be counted as flotsam A bottle with no message Driven out into a howling sea Without a cry

Stranded in this bottle I lost the sea Peering out through the wavy glass I saw nothing I felt nothing So fearful was the loss

The bottle has long broken There are bits of sea glass That can’t cut anyone Even me Scattered now Among my bones

You ask me to examine them now These old hurts and betrayals I see only soft light The kind you find both at dawn and sunset

We are all subject to the tide I suppose, It steals our voice and brings it back again.

-Skye

Title: “Craving for Power” Author: Ilo Kunst Medium: Pen and ink on paper. Source:Beautifulbizarre.

Mad Kings with Blood on Their Hands

Psychotic Charles IV slew his own knights

Paranoid Ivan T. tortured subjects on Saturday afternoons

Oh, and don’t forget George III ranting incoherently as

America broke away Swearing off kings forever…

-Skye

Saturday Afternoon

I would peel you apples just to see fall’s crisp juice color your lips.

You are so far from me

though

that I wield the knife mutilating the fruit

and bury Eve’s sin deep beneath pastry.

Perhaps the smell of it cooling on the window sill will bring you here

and I will yet taste your mouth

and know everything.                  -Skye

The girl cutting apple, 1938, Andre Derain

Image: Poland,1932 Photography: Henryk Poddebski, Poland 1932 Source: polishcostumes

Dziado

Came from Slavic wheat Farming Polish fields under the sun Breaking bread with his mother and sister At end of day

Peasants they owned nothing Not the land Not the wheat Not the roof above them On cold winter nights

War washed him from the continent And off to America With his wife and baby girl

And though he is long dead I still see him

Caring for his cows Feeding his pigs Cooking his eggs With his garden onions Under his own roof.

-Skye

Subject: Actress Mamie Whittaker, September 15, 1910 Photographer: Bassano Additional info: Whole-plate glass negative. Copyright, National Portrait Gallery, London Source: fawnvelveteen

Mamie Whittaker

I looked for you Everywhere

You had a bit part in Houp La! The almost forgotten circus musical extravaganza

You were the lion tamer of all things I cannot reconcile your angelic Countenance with Whips and roaring ravenous beasts.

And here your trail grows cold

Did a lion eat you? Did you marry and lose yourself? Did you grow hungry as your beauty fell away? Did you end up lifting your skirts in some London Alley?

One hundred and fifteen years on you are simply

Gone

Except for your sweet, copyrighted smile.

-Skye