behold
a man without conspiracy
without the foresight
of masked dancers
and stoned ancestors
a child held in the graces
of serene meaningless embers
huddled fast in bare gardens
kissed deep within by desert winds
searing presence into but few words
into spears of bamboo
which follows the night
which hollows the song
behold
a wisdom taken to the earth
struck down by the rooty
warm teas of a black sun
fearless in agave beds
sweaty and covered in fireflys
a savage love set upon itself
a nighttime pour of sweet animal void
graybearded like the river rushing within
scrolls soiled torn and budding
singing of a simple nudity
rising as a cool mass of song
a song and nothing more
a song for you
the beholder
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
I Ching; Therefore I Change.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment