YOUR thighs are appletrees
whose blossoms touch the sky.
Which sky? The sky
where Watteau hung a lady’s
slipper. Your knees
are a southern breeze–or
a gust of snow. Agh! what
sort of man was Fragonard?
–as if that answered
anything. Ah, yes–below
the knees, since the tune
drops that way, it is
one of those white summer days,
the tall grass of your ankles
flickers upon the shore–
Which shore?–
the sand clings to my lips–
Which shore?
Agh, petals maybe. How
should I know?
Which shore? Which shore?
I said petals from an appletree.
–William Carlos Williams
runar over 15 years ago
What I wonder about is where the sand on the lips came from and which lips the sand was on.
I prefer the Smothers Brothers (it’s about a woman who went to a costume party painted as a map of the world):
Her eyes were Siam, Her nose was Hindustan, And on her knees was Greece; (Grease on her knees!)
Her back was Brazil Her chest was Bunker Hill Her hips were Constantinople;
Just then, I saw my wife, And to avoid a future strife. I let the rest of the world go by.
Nothing about thighs in this one.
ejcapulet over 15 years ago
This cartoon is wierd beyond all belief - REALLY REALLY wierd.
Teresa Burritt (Frog Applause) creator over 15 years ago
PORTRAIT OF A LADY —
YOUR thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees are a southern breeze–or a gust of snow. Agh! what sort of man was Fragonard? –as if that answered anything. Ah, yes–below the knees, since the tune drops that way, it is one of those white summer days, the tall grass of your ankles flickers upon the shore– Which shore?– the sand clings to my lips– Which shore? Agh, petals maybe. How should I know? Which shore? Which shore? I said petals from an appletree. –William Carlos Williams
Nugget0 Premium Member over 15 years ago
Thanks for your strips and your comments that highlight the art of words.
sloop over 15 years ago
You blew it big time, Bob.
6turtle9 almost 11 years ago
Jane’s got nuthin’ on Bonita Applebum.