A Canto of Being More than Birth or Death


7

I sang a Canto of country words
Of spirit mingling with identity
I stood and sang and filled the air
In a theater of my special muse –

Underneath pillars of sense & salt
I felt the invisible, intangible
Illuminable work through me
I sang a Canto to the stars

Of heart cleared clean north in heights
With the aspiration to be free
The sun appeared and reddened great
I sang a Canto of sunsets on the verge

Of time naked of politics and self
And my words become finally
A diamond pivot bright born
A luminous page on my knee

I sang a Canto virile in breath
That paused to trace infinity.

the Taste of Poverty


38

A Day! Help and yet another day
Where if prayers were as passer-byes!
They do not greet me, what a world

Such as this, deserves less prayers
More acts of startled selfishness
Might date a victory, in some forgotten

Future, where the past is no longer remembered
These nations and empires and economies
Do not steady my worrisome soul

My psyche was not built for war
Or angel-worn prosperity, I eat
The hopping-sideways for miracles

My life a quiet volunteer work
Of learning empathy in such hurried grounds
My velvet mouth chasing crumbs
With the taste of beauty and divinity

Lingering in my mouth, silver steam
Turmeric and ginger tongue-bells
Garlic butterflies off to the fragrance of noon.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/e-n-d-o-f-t-h-e-d-r-e-a-m-s-403349873