A photograph of a mature and very shapely ceiba from San Antonio de los
Banos (Cuba) can be viewed at http://www.hopscotch.org/1-4/Wilson9.html,
although those who would only buy _Hopscotch_ for the articles might get off
on this one: "The Hunger Artists: Revolution and Appetite" by Diana de
Alarmas Wilson.
Intending to write about the dollies-for-dollars prostitution industry in
Havana, Wilson had arrived too late and found the city cleared of the
prostitutes, who'd been "disappeared" for rehab in the Cuban prison system
(or so she was told).
Candice
on 2/21/01 8:12 AM, Jacques Debrot at [log in to unmask] wrote:
> Poets are so alienated; perhaps pornography can get us excited about each
> other.
>
> I am 13. I kiss you David, then I kiss you, Rosemary--a butterfly kiss--with
> my eyelashes. We are at the top of a ceiba tree. The sun and the moon are
> in the sky together. Caresses . . . shy fondling. The three of us are still
> new to desire.
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