INDECENCY

 

             
               What good was my being in awe of Galenza's chosen
             Sharp turn, whether brave or foolhardy, into a new mode
             Of existence, if i couldn’t translate my dream of him
             (We’re all turning up in one another’s dreams night and day)
             Into a conscious shift of my own heart and mind and soul?
             Was i to stay beyond the scrim and scenes of visibly
             Dramatic changes?

                You might well wonder how it was i could keep breathing in 
             Such a blank prospect.    By not becoming attached to it.
             It wasn’t the fate of having been born the dull outcome
             Of a ‘lazy fuck’ (as Carlos had his ‘Don Juan’ tag him)
             Which both sustained and alarmed me, but the unlaziness
             With which my heart mind soul and spirit (those invisibles)
             Accepted it, savoured it as one more lapse of nature.

                                                 *   

                All that should give an idea of the swirlings of my mind 
             As Halabi kept on talking about Stew’s work on his
             Restaurant’s walls, work which Stew had called Eve’s First Bite,
             Though the feminine principle seemed divorced from the thing.

              When i mentioned this divide, Halabi said,   It may not 
            Show in painting, but Stewart surely had help from this girl.
            Nice, i said, glancing at the waitress; and Halabi laughed:
            No, no I mean his girl.      My jaw dropped:  i could see Stew spray-
            Painting shapes for money, but not with some girlfriend.
 

                (from “fatima solagua arterra’s nudes” by Brian Chan)