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naked verse

michael "sandy" f.

michael f. is an archaeologist, alleged photographer,
supposed minimalist poet, and father of three sons who lives
in providence, rhode island. he is a ph.d. candidate in
anthropology at harvard university and an all-round likable
fellow. he can occasionally be found on wednesday nights at crazy henry's
discount poetry emporium at the hope street gallery and cafe
on the east side of providence. here is some of his verse.


belle fruit

your body is beautiful, like
every body is, unique
and as uniquely sumptuous as
weston's peppers or flowers
by mapplethorpe
young breasts by sturges
and old ones

i want to make it mine,
to cover your form with immortal light
and with it, ourselves

weston made love to nearly
all his figures
after the exposures were made
i wonder
what happened to the peppers


high art

it is scrawled
on men's room walls
from the greyhound station to
the ivy league, there is
no difference

picasso thought the phalluses
in italy were distinctively italian
but i say the art, this low art
is the same everywhere, there is
no difference

i must not be a man
to not appreciate the form
or maybe i'm too dull-witted
to encounter the wit

at least i'm part of the club
privy to the gallery

but i'm much more a fan of
grand art, public art
with a message, i recall
as a child, growing up in the
southland, south of los angeles

in the sixties and seventies
they say our innocence was being lost
but it was just the naissance

alongside the freeway, it is scrawled
across the overpass, a hijacked billboard
across the drainage ditch, a southland "river"
that manifesto, which stood for years, with
its audience of millions, in red
"nancy has boobs"

it's veracity was never questioned
nor its profundity
that was high art


tijuana haiku

san ysidro crowd
braves foreign entanglement
for velvet elvis

bright lights nightly lit
over revolucion
gringos never sleep

frat boys on the strip
chiquitos selling chiclets
chicas sell themselves

in a room above
"twenty dollar" for a suck
just ten on the street

a darkened alley
real life and real ends play out
in the real city

tomorrow's headline:
the ugly american
a beautiful death

the lights extinguished
over revolucion
another day gone


see more providence area poetry at

Got Poetry?

or visit the portrait gallery