Foreign syllables fill my nose
Like scents of lilac past, growing against
The cheap chain-link corridors
Of the dirt-floored alley by the garage.
Next-door the neighbors
Native noises navigate towards eyes,
Rheumy with long years and balls going
Eyes that have seen so much
So much of convenient leanings.
Lands exist though never heard with reddened ears
Somewhat that same, these thousands, these years
These sands that hold camels, bright colors and others eyes, listening
For sounds beyond the silent dunes
And others, skin caressing ebony waists in small circles
Feeling the twinge of the air under their fingertips
The sound of life across the sands, and cities, smelled and touched
The sight of statues, surrounded by cisterns
and sisters and the smell of stones
In circles, built and buttressed against unforeseen dangers
In squares similar to sizable Euclidian paraphrases
With non-sequential ventilation
Across the courtyard, the cracked marble steps
Lead to the dais with hemlock and devil’s snare and sisyphystic simplitude
And blocks of granite with cloth of gold, woven
by virgins, their hands reach up to the heavenly: there
With upturned faces, tongues catching raindrops, joyful
Rivulets; drips down to the chin, nourishing the spirit of the Zen-caked
madmen, knee deep in muddy waters.
Clots in their beards, the rule of the world is slippery and they laugh
Atop other laughs, running their fingers through each other’s hair.
In a drying sky, actions belie the purpose
Of silently searching for surcease