the seas of woman, parting
a woman is beautiful by command of the spirit inside her.
she does what she is bound to do, & there is beauty in the
wake of it. if she’s had times of hurt, she does what she must
to repair, & there is strength & beauty in the broken parts.
I’ve been to clubs that were designed to absorb our loneliness.
I attend to observe women, the art of woman. art, passion,
sexuality: they’re all the same to me.
the women come to dance, with the tenuous possibility of a
sincere connection; prepared to regard the lies they hear with
contempt. but truth is much more seductive.
so I approach a woman, or a second, or a third, & we dance.
if our stars are aligned, she’ll remain with me, to talk & drink.
soon, I tell her plainly, ‘you’re a beautiful woman, I want to be
intimate with you.’
she smiles curtly, as if she knew; as if she could possibly know.
‘is that a polite way of saying you want to f*ck me?’
my anger rears like a wild horse, but I rein it in. ‘no. if that’s what
I wanted, I could go to a whore, & I wouldn’t have to talk at all.’
I’ll go then if she prefers it, but if I stay, there will be romance,
as if every poem written, ever, were a love song to romance.
we will find a small beauty out of the loneliness, & carry it with us.
art, passion, sexuality: they are the same to me,
and they are beautiful.
and in my nomadic life, I’ve had nights
that were a poem…
(Art: Kishin Shinoyama)