Wings
Blood
is playing jiggling notes in my heart
as i am thinking of her..
I am thinking of her as an image of lord Sun in his mighty chariot
standing tall, holding, all the reigns in his calm hand
bathing everything in a brilliant grandeur
all unperturbed and he just riding on – poor, lonesome!?
are they rays or an arrow-array – the curly hair running down to his shoulders?
Finally that kills the last of my nerve cells
shouting for wisdom of an owl
and i have no way else but to chew once again,
the peppermint memory of she glancing me
O what a strange exchange-of-looks was arranged!
Winter 2005
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