Tags
androgtnous girl, art, Dress me like a catamitus, Poetry, Portuguese translation, rent boy, Vestir-me como um catamitus
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Faça-me grávida de algo diferente; deusa de água, esporra, e vida. Vestir-me como um catamitus. Permita-me cobram por hora. Há chamas em teu nos desejos. Incendeiam-me. Lambida toda agonia e mortalidade para fora de o ventre do meu corpo. Diga-me, eu sou o mais bonito de todos os meninos.
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Make me pregnant with something different; goddess of water, cum, and life. Dress me like a catamitus. Allow me to charge by the hour. There are flames in your desires. Burn me. Lick all agony and death out of my body’s womb. Tell me I’m the most beautiful of all the boys.
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memories of my ghost sista 
You’re right…we’ve morphed into the same being. The wife’s thumbnail is stuck whenever I view your posts. This happens on Wambui Bahati’s blog also, with my thumbnail stuck for both of us. WordPress is having issues…they reconfigured by settings and I can’t change them back as far as widgets go. Oh well…it’s computer and internet technology, so it’s none of my business. Still like that Isadora Duncan image inserted in amongst the unknown (to me) images. People who have to move to France to be accepted, or get famous, are OK with me.
Later..
Wasn’t that the case with Josephine Baker, too? The French do love their revolutionary dancers, it seems. I always thought dancing would be fun, but at an early age I discovered I had too left feet, which meant I did more shuffling and near-tripping over myself than anything else.