Poetry: June 17, 2004

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'I'm an alchemist 
of practical skill'
said the wine-man
to Othello
'tonight I'll drink 
your finest red 
and 
tomorrow 
it comes out 
yellow'

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I looked through the curtains
of a falling window
and saw gasping, reaching limbs
one man may have heard 
lustful moans
but to me they were sweet hymns
in the timing of 
ecstasy announced 
air rushed in through a newly 
opened crack 
I'm vulnerable in my lower back
but I'm a tiger 
so I pounced

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I hear her speak 
the language of angels 
in her sleep
it seems garbled 
and I don't have the mind
to decode or to keep
my attention, not to mention
the dreams 
I've yet to reap
but it seems that there are
chasms 
where only the faithful 
leap 
and into the arms of winged 
spasms 
heaving towards
conclusions
that sputter out once dispelled 
of their 
confusion
they then, 
devoid of heaven 
attend disaster
they say it makes their 
lifespans 
flutter faster.

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COPYRIGHT SANANDA MAITREYA - MILANO 17TH JUNE 2004
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED