Thursday, April 15, 2010

LSG 4/15/2010 a poem

Tonight the music is real
Beautiful
I sit in a composed position
Like Buddha
Folded like a flower
Trying to discover the
Open face of the moon
All I see through the window
Are city lights
And the sounds
They speak through the walls
Only they are the language of silent
Prayers
I say with my body and my soul
The kittens in the alleys
The soulless ones who prey
All fall under Buddha’s
Trumpet
And the gaze of the lights from the streetlamps
And the round sudden moon.

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