Cloth wrapped streets of permeable architecture
changes moment by moment without order, only
unending noise ridiculous tourist row Hey Hey Hey
My Friend Namaste! streaming between iron wheels
cow pies steaming between infected dogs collapsed
like corpses and buffalo, asses, the whole farm
wandering without farmers through capillary alleys.
Good Hash Marijuana Fly In The Sky? amidst streams
of barefoot pilgrims and holy men with dreds
corroded high onto their heads, ashes of the dead
smeared on their brows with vermillion, pollen,
blood only to be washed away in Mother Ganga.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment