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Buddhist Love

my bells are left in the void of summer;
you know. history?
i've my own to wonder at. spring?
yes, that's what i want;
i am glad to see you.
like winterlights,
sleepless nights:
it matters.
the sun & you have become my muse
sitting on a wall as you play the blues;
poet love. "warm" is relative,
sun eternal, and i'm lonely.
is half the same.
the trees and you have become my mind
the same way spider webs are pretty
and not safe.
tell me:
when i burned blue rose incense for mount olympus,
did you stop chasing rabbits and look up?
is the fluff off the dandelions yet?
i'm hungry.
don't pay
too much for fame.
the dark & you have become my muse
unfounded in a temple blanket of dust and blues;
watching the stars not change;
do you think,
if i sat in the lotus for long enough
that i would learn to misunderstand
the knowledge of time?
"what are those lights?"
my foot is asleep
and there is russian music playing.
you really weren't lying:
there is god in fields of grass
in old carpets
and in my enemies' eyes.
like time.

21 Jan 07

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 — sadie

hmm yes i like this too - need to read through it a few more times
 — Mongrol

beautiful poem.

 — unknown

my God, the end is unbelievably righteous. sweet.
 — SenorSin