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


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


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

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