Late Home From The Party

Call me a skeptic
but I was untouched
by your dramatic performance.
Untouched too
by the toxic bile
masquerading as truth
you disengorged
from that grotesque crevice
between your bitter lips...
...lips that once softened hardness
and ravaged mortal dreams.
Call me a skeptic,
but I was never aware
that nagging vanities
are cause for an affair.

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I was annoyed, mostly, I realized, because I was impressed.
His reputation, even among his few remaining supporters...
..Immune! Christ, somehow there was enough money floating
To give away a shilling or to do a good action.
Provoke him and he will buckle to a shark,
Appear, to survey, to bless, to command; dominus and domaine.
Always intrudes and imposes his views,
His face, 'Take a look.' All at once he grabbed it back.
This attitude lifted the I Ching above the level of an ordinary.....
..Reputation was so damaged, it was an easy matter.
From the heart of Vajra Sattva the white light path of the mirror like wisdom,
Took a grotesque form
And told me to cut everything into little pieces.

Helen's Butterfly Dance

The Prime Minister, performing perfunctorily
passed through my class.
Short.
Softly spoken.
Closeted by her henchman,
Glazed with indifference,
Pausing to ask a question,
Verging on the rhetorical,
Interest ephemeral.

Perhaps she caught my cold.