Sep 26, 2010

A song.

an underfed baboon-
chases for his tune
Like the naked sea,
awaits the moon.

a cradle of unsung songs,
remembering him-
till the unfinished dawn
Building castles-
in the cornfields of his hair
breeding butterflies-
right beneath them.

A traveler's curse,
Trudging oceans-
deeper than depth.
He says, "follow the wind, as i takes you"
I say, "how will the wind recognize you"

melts away with the rain,
flirting with memories-
ever so stray.
A peck, an unsolicited hug,
Hear the cloud day chuckle
after it has moaned.

becomes his fragrance,
when i'm alone.
Like blobs of paint,
left untouched on the canvas.