Wail-Moans for Love Scraps

(turn phones sideways to read properly)
The poets press their faces to the Love-Room's door,
begging for scraps from that Love Affair.
One of them catches a love-drunk whiff and cries out:
Raaadhaaaaaaaaaaaa! Krishnaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
(It's as if you can crawl inside of that sound
and melt
into electrified longing...)
I will tell you, the philosophers aren't even inside of that house;
they hand out leaflets on the street corner
and debate the meaning of muffled sounds:
Is it One? Or is it Two?
Are the waves separate from the sea?
But there's no riddle to unlock; no Sphinx guards the gate.
It swings open, wildly
on the winds of the lover's cry,
and some of those leaflets actually say to go in!
I even saw one that said:
Become a drunk poet
and wail-moan
for Love scraps.
3 Responses
Ah, Sitaram, how drunkenly sober you are. How blinding this electricity to all but That One. You sing such overwhelming wail-moans. In That love……….
Ahhh… what a blast of love, sent through cyber space and landing right in my heart here in Northern California. You are in my heart dear friend. Much love to you <3
Goodd share