White Feathers

Music etches out of the black small boxes
white feathers crawling around me, an insect-
gently swivels away on my thigh, innocent and small.

I feel eroded amongst a crowd-
of tittering young men and women
bizarre evening,
the night not starry
the clouds black and solemn
it gives me an air of strangeness,
of winter that's come early,
thoughts disheveled like old harried snow.

We pseudo-intellectual souls, filled with-
knowledge we gather from the cosmos,
but I wonder, how real is everything.

A world with eery darkness lurking around corners-
eyes filled with despair, look for light
to guide us through the echoing night.

A beautiful maiden in black-
next to my shadow,
who's silhouette, I see-
even though in solitude,
I still admire her finesse
that furnish soft whispers-
in the nearby pergola of dis-sentry.

Longing

Slender haunting hips,
wavy hair gently caress me,
her eyes set on the path ahead,
I stand back, and stare at her grace.
Blue mists form around her,
invincible, away from the wayside hawks,
she slithers with ease, like a light brown snake
but a gentle one, an occasional soft hiss.
Her smile spreads joy on the sickly streets,
where the mangy mongrels aching with gangrene-
gather, acrid smells and holocaust swells of cosmic smoke.
I walk in a soft trance, eyes tearing with wonder,
the light cobblestone stutter, the temple bells titter,
om, the mystic breathes out soft,
her coming in the hustle and bustle.
I wait and watch, in an almost stupor,
waiting, my heart longing to touch her soul,
to touch her soul,
I long to touch her soul,
to breathe her, to be her, to love her,
I long...