Earth Is The Place

Earth is the place where the subtle
dances with the crude.
The Virgin and the Whore
reflected in the crystal wings
of a dragonfly.
If you think This is superior to That,
you're basically fucked.
You'll never be happy here.
This planet wasn't created to be
a vegan utopia for angelic hipsters
where the immaculate State imposes
Bodhidharma's diamond equality
on all sentient citizens.
That would be heat death, the republic
of entropy. This planet was created
crazy and voluptuous, frustrating
every attempt to grasp Truth
through ideas.
This planet was created
to give you every opportunity
to hug the opposite.
The Warrior and the Pacifist
picnicking in a meadow
of bloodstained poppies.
A Man and a Woman actually
making love without blame.
This is the only world where the heart
can break, spilling shattered songs
of triumph and catastrophe.
I'm sorry, I love you, forgive me,
or whip me again.
Lock me in handcuffs and lead me
through your nest of rattling
bright-fanged chromosomes,
through the bowels of your fossil machine.
Take off all your man hole covers.
Let me descend through your hollow
subterranean trans bones
where sewers refuse to go.
Thread me through your labyrinth
of scarlet mouths
to the bridal chamber of the exilic queen,
She who gazes into seven empty cups.
She who makes me drunk
with the clarity of the void.
Who fills me with the sparkling wine
of darkness.

Painting by Vladimir Oftcharov

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