You will not find poetry anywhere unless you bring some of it with you. Joseph Joubert

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

For my Professor

So innocently charming
The lips that you pout
In anger, in storm
On my mirror
And earth...

Like the bee that drone within
Your charm makes a clockwork salsa.

You call the doped colors of
The illustrated lanes…
And lull the hallucinated panthers
For the ethereal moon-dance.

But I, swear by the dust and dirt
that would ever dress the highway,
And the mud that would make your God
I see before my eyes
A draped analysis.


Parjanya said...

So visual....I could actually visualize your lines taking shape before my eyes......'I see before my eyes/ a draped analysis'-- the exact feel of your poem....

Debs said...

The images some how reminded me of Colerigde's Kubla Khan.

Surreal,yet mystic.