Jean-Michel Basquiat Invaded My Dreams
by Kitty Boots
it wasn't the colors or the pluck
I really didn't give a fuck about the message
because anyone can write on a building, but does anyone read Graham Greene anymore?
how can you not be curious and a little afraid
when the wood smoke of Port-au-Prince lingers in the air, reaching Petionville
and you're trying to speak your best French and the waiters still laugh at you
while the caramel-colored women toss their hair, swing beautiful hips
and the men argue about cock fighting?
my father warned me about the tonton macoutes and I saw men with machetes and sunglasses in the Iron Market
cane cutters
the rum tasted of hibiscus blossoms
and women wore skirts and tied their hair up, not a lot of begging
because everyone was so busy doing something
and I shared my apples with the children
Holy shit wow!
*
more. more dreams, please!
Splendid.
Trippy.*
"because anyone can write on a building, but does anyone read Graham Greene anymore?"
*
Lyrical with an edge *
Thank you, Matt, Jerry, Gary, Jenny, Rachna and Jill.
Wonderful!
*
(play with line breaks)
Thank you, Bill!
Not sure I missed this one for 2 days. It's v. good.
*
"not sure HOW I missed this one." Dang thing, wish it would allow a minute--anything-- to catch mistakes and edit.
Stark and real. Enjoyed.
Great poem, and love the title! *
Thank you, Ray, Sam and David. Appreciate the reads and comments!
A lovely capture of a moment in time. I especially like
"the rum tasted of hibiscus blossoms
and women wore skirts and tied their hair up"
I think you and I should drink that rum in our skirts and updo hair.
Thank you, agreed, Charlotte!
Beautifully pictured. It sure opened wide vistas in me.
Thank you, Darryl. Haiti is a colorful, but scary place, truly a place for artists.
Beautiful, insightful and poetic images. Great poem, KItty.*
Thank you, Daniel!
Love this Ms Boots!!