photo by the author, a bit blurry because surreptitiously taken in the no photography zone of this church
Fuck whoever is behind the crossbar. This is not about who was crucified and why. This is introduction to Western Civilization. Read the syllabus, do the work or you'll never make it out of the auditoriums.
This is not a safe space. This is the world you aspire to inherit in all its glorious horrors a British Museum of oppression. Learn from it or the terrors lurking outside this campus will crush you like it's nth Dorito.
Above the gaily attired Moors doing all the work are the church militant the prince courtly original sinners a cherub of course musicians a poet at far right and WTF are those
singing wingéd llamas? I don't know. I'm just trying to finish my thesis without crushing debt to carry like those sacks. Get out. Read. Travel. See these marvelous horrors for yourself.
and decide if any of this is worth saving from Venice’s relentless tides.
Ghost of a Poet, Risen. Woke as fuck. Beltalowda. Thor Viki. Singing about the dark times.
Formerly of WetBankGuide.blogspot.com & ToulouseStreet.wordpress.com & @OddWords. wellbottomblues.com
Mark Folse is a provincial diarist and aspiring minor poet from New Orleans. His past blogging adventures included the Katina/Federal Flood blog wetbankguide on blogspot.com which David Simon told NY Magazine was one of three blogs that helped inform Treme, and Toulouse Street–Odd Bits of Life in New Orleans, which once outranked the Doobie Brothers on Google Search. His work has appeared in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Trampoline, Unlikely Stories, Peauxdunque Review, LMNL Anthology, The New Delta Review, Metazen, New Laurel Review, Ellipsis, What We Know: New Orleans as Home, Please Forward, The Maple Leaf Rag IV, and A Howling in the Wires (which he co-edited).
Well Bottom Blues 
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