there's something immoral about beauty

there's something immoral about beauty
detached from ethical concern
synapse explosions of pure
unprincipled pleasure

the hips of Shakira and Ishtar
robed gait of Gradiva
my sweet pitiable dream and delusion
the little death in Venice

there's something hopeless about beauty
it arrives and is gone
leaving not a trace in its wake
like a boat rowed away in the fog

desolation in its wake
decadent pleasures
consumed, burnt up in their expenditure
in their decay the smoke rises
like incense to blasphemous gods