Saturday, April 19, 2008

Half-assed metrics

I was trying to write this poem the other day, or at least a poem with this title and the opening image/line. My deadline approaches, and my companions probably want my attention (hard to write when you're not solitary, it turns out), so I'll throw this out there.


Yellow scarf around his head
fingers utter on the strings
hearts are falling in the aisles
praise to God for foolish things

Krishna walked along the bank
where the worship women lay
fingers uttered there as well
each transported in her way

Modern women theorize
too remote for passion’s spell
Find the note that resonates
Holy fools become as well

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