supersitions
April 27, 2009
curse the air, tie the reeds.
hit the little man who doesn’t speak.
caress the palm, heed the lines.
they know too little, like you know rhymes.
yellow paper vermillion ink.
doesn’t glow, a charm for show.
sticks of gum and sticks of spice.
sweet to smell – hidden vice.
free the birds & free the fishes
redeem your sins but its gone like ashes.
your vedic hymms & pagan chants
impotently solemn – gravely blunt.
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