On the Bowery, in the ornate carcass of a formerly grand vaudeville theater, a dance marathon limps along. The contestants, young girls and their fellas, hold one another up, determined to make their mark, to bite back at the dreams sold to them in newspaper advertisements and on the radio. They have sores on their feet but stars in their eyes.
Libba BrayMots clés dancing new-york libba-bray the-diviners
Careful there, Poet. I might start to believe you.
Libba BrayMots clés poet libba-bray the-diviners
Clothing left on the bed unfolded. Books stained with coffee spots. Tabs not paid until the last possible second. Boys kissed and then forgotten in a week’s time.
Libba BrayMots clés libba-bray the-diviners
People always fear what they don't understand, Evangeline. History proves that.
Libba BrayMots clés fear history libba-bray the-diviners
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