when desperate,
the cells of my body
spin a chaotic madness.
sins of the mind
hell’ed in abeyance
rise
to the sirens call of key lights
and become high-stepping rockettes
on an opening night.
that is what
i want the audience to see.
pomp.
dash.
verve,
verve,
verve
rather than the sight
of a collapsed chest
with a concaved heart.
i’ve become a madman
desperate,
desperate,
desperate to tell lies
in every sentence i speak.
they know,
everyone knows,
they know.
use sleight of hand.
misdirect them.
hold their imaginations hostage.
don’t worry.
at some point
I'll
soon
run
out
of
breath.
Clarence Hudson White :: Young Girl Asleep in her Room, ca. 1900
Damir Simic :: unknown title
this is where I am in Universe,
what can I see from here?
this is where we are in Universe,
what can we see from here.
i find the coda of a life well-lived,
i visit the call girls,
the courtesans,
and the prostitutes
hoping to provide them as clean as a transaction
as they’ll provide me.
there is divinity in this exchange.
inscrutability,
satiety,
a betwixtness of two.
give me the reek of lust, funk and unguents
Courtesan, 1520, Bartolomeo Veneto (1470–1531).