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.

--

--

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).

--

--

Maurice Kaehler

Comprehensivist, Writer, and Systems Thinker/Healer. My experience is my sutra and my body is my prayer.