02-27-2021, 11:03 AM
Betty Boop Betty Boop
where have you gone?
cried Vladimir Ulynov
from his prison made of lemons
on his short-wave made of limes
Waves come, waves go
far below, far below
Betty Boop Betty Boop
where have you gone?
cried Papa Bellocq*
from his castle made of women
on his satellite of pies
Sky opens, sky shuts
all above, all above
Betty Boop Betty Boop
where have you gone?
cried Sitting Bull
as he rode a black buffalo
down a waterfall of storks
Sun cracks, waves slap
into the depths, into the sea
Betty Boop, she could not answer
her balloon ran out of mustard
her radio ran out of jam
she drifted in and out of goodbyes.
But if you’re ever off the coast of New Guinea
you can still watch her shimmy.
Yes, those are sharks inside her eyes.
*New Orleans photographer, Storyville Portraits
where have you gone?
cried Vladimir Ulynov
from his prison made of lemons
on his short-wave made of limes
Waves come, waves go
far below, far below
Betty Boop Betty Boop
where have you gone?
cried Papa Bellocq*
from his castle made of women
on his satellite of pies
Sky opens, sky shuts
all above, all above
Betty Boop Betty Boop
where have you gone?
cried Sitting Bull
as he rode a black buffalo
down a waterfall of storks
Sun cracks, waves slap
into the depths, into the sea
Betty Boop, she could not answer
her balloon ran out of mustard
her radio ran out of jam
she drifted in and out of goodbyes.
But if you’re ever off the coast of New Guinea
you can still watch her shimmy.
Yes, those are sharks inside her eyes.
*New Orleans photographer, Storyville Portraits
"Poetry is the rhythmic, inevitably narrative, movement from an overclothed blindness to a naked vision." Dylan Thomas
