Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Sayonara Hiawatha

The water was water colored
         as was the sunlight that danced across the
                  endlessly rocking surface stretching
                           to the horizon & possibly beyond
         w/murky submarine depths & surface sparkle

The surging pulse that runs thru everything that breathes

A list of places to go, things to do...

         The light goes from gold to blue
         the way it does at Punta Baja
                  as described in the bootleg copy of the Upanishads
                           that gathers dust on the back shelf of my brain

                  & the eucalyptus rattles in three-quarter time
                  a harpsichord played with a sledgehammer
                  while seagulls gavotte across the wet sand

Find the rhyme & follow it, she said
         but where does the breath go when it isn't here?

Snatched away by a crew of devas and asuras who
         should know better than to
                  fuck w/the regularly scheduled programming