Tuesday, November 30, 2010

poem || Anny Ballardini

Black Boots

Good soft leather Italian Fashion
tubular, slightly pointed, solid
stable heels,
about 2-300 euros, like nothing.
That the price of your father’s imminent death,
a pair of Black shining boots
on fashion, Italian style,
a shimmer of satisfaction as if stolen from
the glittering windows of a central shop,
the act of purchase:
a frozen strawberry that melts
on your carefully glossed lips,
a sparkle of defiance in your eyes,
your eyebrows stiffed high.
The more I know you,
the more your remind me of the Nazis,
the much you said you despised them.
Pasolini would have chosen you
as his main character in Sodom and Gomorrah,
had he only met you.


  1. Wonderful Anny! Thanks! Ko shin

    Boots you say, yes I have some
    shit kickers where I come from
    one pair, New Orleans bound after Katrina
    taking down wall after wall, mold so strong it makes your nose tickle, remains of a family life, birthday parties and football games unplayable...hopes dashed,
    yes, boots are made for walkin' the song says,
    not over you, but rebuilding the city that once was...now for snow,cutting some wood for the fire...my what would you do with our those Italian boots and I cannot get along with my...
    kickers! Oh ya, shit kickers is what they are...

    ko shin, Bob Hanson in the woods....

  2. Anny, your work is always great - this one follows that fashion quite wonderfully!