chasing lunatics in my own skin
cherubs carrying torches
aiming their firearms at the sun
Why would they give to that which already has?
They must know something I do not
Sri Ram
Jai Ram
I sing the ragas
I recite my poems
on the faintest heart, I milk the earth for a bridegroom
I browse for your favor,
but I dare not rest!
because the pungent spell of dandelion ash
is growing in a tree trunk
and there is a poem there... a dry birth...a torch waiting to burn.
I Love and Adore You
Your Beloved
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