/Diane, my pervert sex driven writer, I love you so much.
/erotic portrayal of the bohemian New York in the 50s, cafes, jazz clubs, poets and artists, you raised your rebellion into ART, bless you a million times.


"Her small hands slipped behind my back and under my hair and unzipped my leotard and unhooked my bra so that she could, with one motion, slip them both down over my shoulders. Still holding my mouth with her own, she drew me to my feet, undid my jeans, and with my eager help slipped all my clothes off in one tangled heap. I stepped out of them without interrupting our kiss.”

― Diane di Prima, Memoirs.

(Diane fucking another woman, another poet) 

#books

#1304