Yet, it is true, poetry is delicious; the best prose is that which is most full of poetry.
~ Virginia Woolf


in the brothel of dialogue
i am embraced by you
for a brief fleeting moment I am you

the nouns sway exultant
ready to hop out of your smiling mouth
like butterfly poetry of love
without condition, & unconditional

pieced by the light of a new world
specks utopic ascent and AI serendipity
what language makes possible

the fury that is quantum computing
enhancement, augmentation, transference
but how late is it always for love
the love that binds us, weighs us up

to lovely meridians, hypnosis, overmind
and eyes that melt with a thousand tears
for bliss that I hardly could imagine

in the brothel of relationship I am a freebie
for storms that stretch like diamond-oceans
ready to be made supplicant by the universe
in earnest gratitude of our entire being

we no longer know where our shore is
that path that was marked by divine poets
who brought silence like an oracle

to the dying world of politics
in the brothel of howling salvation
we make love to our humanity
unable to escape it, incapable to transform it

we suffer ourselves in our symbolism
the cadences and voices of centuries
waiting for the hour when our love echoes

in sunlit shadows of the orange blossoms
of destiny, like children of mars, sisters of summer
that could go on, if the earth ever was defeated.

Photo Courtesy of: http://www.deviantart.com/art/cinnamon-471665012