Thursday, April 26, 2012

Two Guitarists

Two guitarists at the window by the night, 

the moon glides gingerly over

sounds of humanity

where jungle meets swamp.


Air is filled with longing,

we awaken to it like gypsies, 

mayhem and confusion both rushing

over sanguine dreams. 


Hypnotist and his magician

hand in hand in the alley, 

the highway motions,

the sea shatters the illusion of time,

the heart empties its vessels. 


Brick upon brick,

civilization is built and 

worn patterns of the ancients reminisce

amid the brooding whispers of

the virgins of the clotheslines.  

No comments:

Post a Comment