Thursday, October 6, 2011

Tango de la Materia, No. 68

Forge the maelstrom thy desire

A shy but beckoning

To move through crowds invisible

As if to exist were not to steal

The philosophical reality is as such

Dialectic overgrown

And out of the cave is silence

Nothing but a breeze

The elder prejuding

Funeral parlor steps

Like bundled blades of grass

In the mourning wind

Love never dies

Though I look mark in your eyes

And see a slim nothing

We just came to watch the people

We were tired of the grass

We were tired of the work

We liked the golden dawn

Cinco de Mayo

To celebrate the hedgerow queen

In blissful Máj

The Pentecostal Mayday

I prefer a silence that is without prejudice

A simple mind soufflé

And buenas we sleep

And so buenas noches

No comments:

Post a Comment