Monday, March 28, 2016

One February we were selling love

the thrum
of a tranquil guitar
at the Beatles Ashram
we'll meditate
along with butterflies

***

what can you offer
to the morning breeze
the chorus
of four bright boys
merging with the fog

***

bloodied
by twilight
one black bulbul
tells you the tale of a god
selling peace in packets


***

freed
from the hubbub
of money machines
this spring we'd sell love
to the babblers

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