Saturday, October 14, 2006

Rebecca Loudon Wants Pervily to Watch Us Bathe: Day Thirteen

The extravagantly talented Rebecca Loudon, whose poems I have admired for literal years and whose life has been a snorting stampede of poetic success lately, has arrived at Wallace Stevens's birthday party dressed as a red-eyed elder, though the elder part is hardly believable, since her overawing hotness is so apparent under the glow of her convincingly reddened eyes and I cannot but long to fly home to her bosom instead of Abraham's after my own mootable death. See, poetry can replace religion! I loved this poem so much when I was a kid, before I fully understood that it was about old men getting boners for nasty reasons. Needless to say, I love it even more now.


Radish King said...

Holy crap you crack me up.
Whose poems I have admired since I was three.


As you can see, photoshop and I have never before crossed ways.


Radish King said...

I'm not even ashamed to admit that there is a line in a poem in Radish King that reads:

May I watch you bathe?

And then there's some crap about a prickly pear (almost a quince!) and tonguing Scarlatti into her mouth.

I don't know why I do the things I do but now I suspect it was an early association with Wallace Stevens that might have done it.

p.s. I have a terrible fear that during my concert tomorrow I'm going to think of you longing to fly home to her bosom instead of Abraham's and then I will start snorting and coughing and I will disrupt everything and disgrace myself as a musician and then be booted out of the orchestra forever.

Tricia said...

Answer: Yes! Yes, you may watch us ALL bathe. I, for one, pumice my heels in a special way that I think may interest you.

As for the concert, if people cannot handle a little snorting from musicians once in a while then what is the world coming to?

I cannot wait to read Radish King in its tongue-bathing entirety!

Anonymous said...

Slammin' bod!