Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Kiss My Bare Art

Nick Herbert: Das Gym, May 2015

We drink our Muse; we smoke our Muse
We duct Her thru our gaping pores
Invent new sins to fan Her whims
We're lovely Muse's lowly whores.

We follow Muse beyond the stars
To bomb labs, muscle gyms and porno bars
Where Life beckons, there we go
Seek deeper meat than Jacques Cousteau.

We crave that rush, that punch, that flood
We love that dark orgasmic drain
Then pick ourselves up off the rug
And open up another vein.

For just one glance we drop our pants
Her prostitutes and renegades
Yet every kiss burns like the first
We're virginal as new-born babes.


Jack Sarfatti said...


iona miller said...


peripateo said...

Oh Sir Nick, you have no idea how this resonants for me now: beautifully, strangely comforting.

The All-Good-Boyo --in his search for the perfect cocktail-- slipped through the Veil on Monday. I am now the mother of angels.


Yet the poem makes so much truth I can only nod and tap my toe in time. Thank you thank you thank you.