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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535581" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>from 'Ragas For Krishna' - Part 3</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">from 'Ragas For Krishna'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sleepy Bee, he is rising beneath me, the hidden god is pleased</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Somniculosus Apis, Sleepy Bee<br>Ascendit infra me, He rises beneath me<br>Deus absconditus placet, The hidden God is pleased</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He is busy preparing a repast of sacred chilies of his Mother's garden born. Who will hear him sing their praises but me present alone with him here? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yesterday Krishna arrived more radiant than when we first met beside the cardamom and the ghee in the intoxicating basement of the Indian food and spice shop not easily hidden below the sidewalk, such aromas cannot to be tucked away like the shop is, beside and below the avenue, just as his radiance cannot, should not, be hidden.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Which flower should I adorn my table with? I ask, approaching shyly beside the spice bins. I buzz inside, a bee for the nectar.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If you serve, says he, If you serve with cardamom and ghee then flowers three are best, the jasmine, the oleander, the anthurium. But if choosing only one, he looks at me, something insistent, responding, in his eyes, I would choose for you the anthurium.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so we begin our time together, the first demur approaches, the blushing papayas, the cooking lessons, then the fires, the chilies harvested, curtains drawn. One day perhaps I shall fall but in this way: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I shall fling <br>the curtains back<br>Open the window<br>Throw cut sleeves, <br>for years gathered, <br>hidden, to the street.<br>Shouting out names <br>of lovers, I shall then <br>leap openly out, into, <br>land softly upon ginkgo <br>leaves and, golden, kiss <br>every parked car leaving <br>lip traces upon hoods, <br>trunks, windshields and, <br>lustily, rear view mirrors<br>reviewing all yore's cut <br>sleeves of love, secret<br>no longer, newly in love <br>with all the world and<br>if not all the world then <br>all the grinning griddled <br>faces of chrome and a <br>fiddle dee dee for the <br>fall of me into he who <br>has become my home</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>How I had to teach him what lovers<br>give to each how to kiss how to touch<br>how love is fluctuate fluent in dirty<br>tongues entanglements with the world</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still I have fluttered mightily in long <br>tangles of hair black, black his darker <br>eyes shine his bottom lip petulant hungry <br>for mine and those his parts smooth rivaling <br>Everest always beckoning to be climbed</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And surprises <br>tenderness on his part<br>graces unexpected quick disrobing</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the easy nakedness the hunger so<br>clean the affection grown from early<br>flings to ring heart rosaries forged</div><div style="margin:10px 0">toes fall down to tumbles<br>grasps and pressing flesh<br>its own alchemy merging<br>but let there be two solid<br>but encroachable objects<br>together crushed into each</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He is soon departed<br>likelihood of similar rare<br>the room empties<br>late afternoon shadows<br>his leaving leaves <br>traces and I am full</div><div style="margin:10px 0">yet</div><div style="margin:10px 0">emptiness is never fuller but<br>for beloved's absence felt which<br>of course is </div><div style="margin:10px 0">the mystic's launch<br>the desert dweller and the roof<br>the longing tooth gnawing</div><div style="margin:10px 0">one claws inwardly through<br>layers to find that Name which<br>Holier Ones say is written on<br>the back of the Heart</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus remain I here in monk cell<br>soon to be more the monk's than<br>once spunk monkey's boudoir</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Warren+Falcon">Warren Falcon</a><div class=q>
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Sleepy Bee, he is rising beneath me, the hidden god is pleased

Somniculosus Apis, Sleepy Bee
Ascendit infra me, He rises beneath me
Deus absconditus placet, The hidden God is pleased

He is busy preparing a repast of sac..."></div>
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