Sunday, August 16, 2015

Michael's Gyre

(previously Micheal's Dervish)
Let’s whirl a yellow sky, gowned in gossamer,
laced up in thunder. Let's hold the rumble, 
just to tumble - Habiba’s milky heart.
Let’s burn hot, be spent like blackened fields.

Laced up in thunder, let's hold the heat,
seed heads popping with epiphany.
Let’s burn hot, be spent like Saturday night.
We’ll raise a murder of crows, a heckle of dragons.

Seed heads swelling with wizened codes.
The Vesper bells, pearls of Cantos.
We’ll feed a murder of crows, a fold of tigers.
We’ll bleed clouds, weave them into magic carpet.

The Vesper bells, opals of cantata.
Let’s be the summons for gentle rain.
We’ll bleed clouds, weave them into love charms.
Spin ecstasy to spread over shadow.

Let’s be the summons for gentle days,
be light dancing, dappled beneath green canopies.
Spin ecstasy to spread over sadness.
A yellow sky swings us widdershins.

No comments: