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.

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From and for God