Saturday, April 30, 2011

Lying Low, Flying High


Lying Low, Flying High


To be roused by a handful of beads
and on the carpets were strewn petals

ears filled with the fiddler and the bongo
touches, blue songs arrested from the night

at the marrakesh of a friend's apartment
gold spangles and red pills and pillows

all this evanescent scene foretold by Roz
from her beatnik couch, hand on her clavicle

a relic, this memory, an ancient find, so very old
clacking of beads, night resting upon itself.

Trulyfool

Posted over on his site Light at the End of the Tether
Listed as #99 over on Magpie Tales 63

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