RIVULETS OF TRICKLING ECSTASY FROM THE ALABASTER POOLS OF JAZZ

Ted Croner Music from her breast, vibratingSoundseared into burnished velvet.Silent hips deceiving fools.Rivulets of trickling ecstacyFrom the alabaster pools of JazzWhere music cools hot souls.Eyes more articulately silentThan Medusa's thousand tongues.A bridge of eyes, consenting smilesreveal her presence singingOf cool remembrance, happy ballsWrapped in swingingJazzHer music...Jazz. Poem: "jazz chick" by BOB KAUFMAN

BUD POWELL’S MELANCHOLIC SYMPHONY ON LARGACTIL AT THE LAST HOTEL – DIONYSIAC CHRONICLES FROM THE HÔTEL LA LOUISIANE BY HENRIK AESHNA/EROS EN FEU

“il faut que ce feu commence à moi. Ce feu et ces langues, et les cavernes de ma gestation. » antonin artaud Henrik Aeshna/Eros en Feu, Hotel La Louisiane, 2020 Inside, the unmade bed, the scattered journals & notebooks like a storm conspiracy, the scented candles filling the air, the wonderful hysteria created by the lovers …