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The Working Girl Muse: 3 Poems by Kenny

The Working Girl Muse: 3 Poems by Kenny

May 10, 2010756Views

By Kenneth McIntyre

DISCONNECT THE WIRES AND WORK ON BEAMS

I know this whore in Seoul

She is a mercurial sort

Reminds me of a Gregorian chantWoman_Sculpture-1ken

Happy

And

Sad

She tells me she feels cheap

And if it was not for the money

There would be no pride at all

I give her that pat response

Without the word whore

She gets angry and tells me

I have short legs and should

Go back to my country

Beyond certain limits you

Do not exist for me

I tell her

She likes to read my palm

With

The English dictionary in her lap

Says my intransigence will kill

I tell her 742

We are a funny sort

She cries and tells me she

Always

Wanted to be a nurse

I ponder that and come to the

Conclusion that the only decent women

I have met are

Nurses and whores

____________________________________________________________

WHORES

There is this city in Asia

Not much of a city really

Full of whores and dirtier

Whore mongers

A place that would disgust mostken9

The molls are stacked

Three

High

In every polluted club

Plying their wares

Like rotting

Dolls

In a soiled showcase

I decline the audience

Lumber into a clouded bar

Start pounding Red Horse

And

Wait

We mix venom

She wants money

I ask for what

Four children

Babysitter

Motorbike

Cell phone

Metal roof for the house

Back in Seoul

I walk by the

Western Union

Shake my head and think

Jesus Christ

There is always

More in the shop

Than in the window

____________________________________________________________

LOVE POEM TO A WHORE OF NINE YEARS

(ROAD TO DAMASCUS)

If  I was a romantic

I would compare you to Helen

And search the myths

GreekHelenofTroyKEN

Chinese

Korean

For a celestial being as ardent and slender

One with form as fine but find none

You are beauty round with grace

So light is your step and sway

Emotions I horde for Buddha and death

Bathe me with evidence that you dance not walk

Simply to touch you is combustible

Head and hair become the burning bush

When you speak I become drunk with lust

I stammer through exaltation and am in awe

I hold love and divinity in my metamorphosis

_____________________________________________________________

Kenneth McIntyre is on a continual journey in search of muses, mystics, pontificators and inebriates.  He roams the streets of Seoul and patronizes the borough of Haebangcheon where he may be found setting the scene for future verse.

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