Pompidou
I was there in the '80'sParis riots,
we had a room
on the top floor
on the Rue du Rivoli,
so we were pretty safe.
Yoshi, came from the South,
he had giraffes as ancesters.
Madeleine, was fragile
she skiied in Grenoble
earning wings,
she was a born mother
but never experienced,
she go caught up
in money markets,
snip suits
that were chic
and died at thirty.
I would cycle,
a whirlwind on wheels,
but they got me somewhere,
I'm not sure where.
We roll on cushions now
and take an age
to recover.
I remember bouncing on balls
outside the Pompidou museum
with all the mime artists
and artists, who couldn't draw,
just give an imitation
or what life is all about
Poetry by Elle

Read 846 times
Written on 2014-04-19 at 19:29




![]() |
F.i.in.e Moods |
![]() |
Peter Humphreys |
shells |
Texts |
![]() by Elle ![]() Latest textsMarchFebruary New Year Christmas Eve Two Little Cats |

