Exit Crimée and walk along Avenue de Flandre

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Image © Alicia Khoo

Coffee, cigarettes and croissants, Parisian petit-dejeuner. Pickpockets not
optional but complimentary. You won’t see them coming until you get home

and realize your underwear is missing. I meet a curator from a museum in
Venezuela, she is here for a world conference on what to do with the

evolution and possible demise of a certain art form. I meet a young Dutch
girl and we spend many nights sipping licorice tea all
bundled up in H&M sweaters ranting about politics, sparkling by sunsets in

Chinese traiteurs moaning and grieving about lost love and how much we
adore an English chef who keeps serving us dessert and croutons he made

from pain tradition on top of Caesar salads drowned in melted grilled goat’s cheese;
a boy from Brazil who came here for two days from Barcelona and ended up

staying for three years sitting with me at night in front of the Eiffel Tower watching
it glitter and talking about the sand of São Paulo, and then we go off to Oberkampf

and meet an Australian boy who almost died of cancer five times and now just loves
to dance and be generally irreverent. We migrate in flocks to this city to find something

new or old to get addicted to and abandon, get so angry and feel so alive, cuss and say how
much we hate Paris and it smells like pee but we always come back to the métro

graffiti, racial wars, poetic violence, all trying to secretly overcome the grave by
becoming personal moveable feasts and inimitable livers. If you ever recognize me

again, I’ll meet you at Jacques Bonsergent where we pissed our skirts laughing
and whistling that bitter winter night, so many possibilities ago, before we both broke and

died and died and left hope and ideals laying in ashtrays, cafés and boulangeries where people
spit out coffee and exclaim how burnt and sour it is and it is not Sarkozy’s fault

this time but our own damn fault.

© Alicia Khoo

NaPoWriMo Day 22

Eblouie par la Nuit by ZAZ

Crimée est une station du métro de Paris sur la ligne 7, dans le 19e arrondissement de Paris.
La station est ouverte en 1910.

Cette station porte le nom de la guerre de Crimée (1855-1856), presquîle dUkraine sur la mer Noire, vit la coalition comprenant la Turquie, le Royaume-Uni, la France et le Piémont affronter la Russie qui fut vaincue, notamment avec la prise de Sébastopol. Le conflit se termina par le traité de Paris en 1856.
Bassin de la villette , Canal de l’Ourcq, Le quartier commerçant de l’avenue de Flandre ( Flandre, Monoprix, fleuriste, bars-tabac, restaurants)

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Rhetoric

One of the most famous frescoes by the Italian Renaissance artist Raphael.

The School of Athens (Scuola di Atene), Raphael, 1509-1511

Skirting the outer court,
in the heat and seeking shade
under fig trees;

we are eternal creatures
asking eternal questions;

Caesar raised his fist in the air,
undefeated,
but curled up to die when he saw
his best friend wielding the weapon;

Betrayal shattered his spirit,
petitioning at the institution of promises.

Within a blink do the fallen
go into oblivion?

Alas, what else would I be
but a broken promise
without a throne,
living oceans calling to blind valleys,
deep calling to deep.

© Alicia Khoo

NaPoWriMo Day 15

To Die For

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At the site of a meteorite strike

untamed pressure turns carbon

into unalterable stone

that men shed blood for,

subdued by capitalism;

Either a bearer of glory

or a proper cutting tool

of geochemistry;

Unbreakable,

I overpower.

I tame,

a testament to light and time,

the pursuit of happiness

and drunken immortality.

© Alicia Khoo

NaPoWriMo Day 9

The word ‘diamond’ derives from ancient Greek adamao, meaning ‘I tame’ or ‘I subdue’ or the related word adamas, which means ‘hardest steel’ or ‘hardest substance’. http://chemistry.about.com/cs/geochemistry/a/aa071601a.htm