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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535657" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ragas for Sleepy Bee</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">for Krishna, both of them, god, man</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And so we began<br>the cooking lessons<br>the first demur approaches<br>the blushing papayas then<br>the fires the chilies harvested<br>curtains drawn</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>1</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dawn. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Slow him down.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He speaks <br>his accent thickly <br>richly Tamil<br>enunciating<br>each syllable</div><div style="margin:10px 0">a child's story<br>stutters a boy <br>waking at dawn<br>asking for something <br>to eat</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Sleepy Bee - she calls to him -<br>Go my Sleepy Bee to the garden<br>smell the jasmine there touch<br>softly the spices in trembling<br>rows fetch then chilies of many<br>colors I will prepare for you a<br>meal as you desire</div><div style="margin:10px 0">when teacher makes you drowsy<br>by noon smell the spices in finger rows <br>upon your hand there remember the touch <br>of chillies smooth whispering of lingering <br>liaisons to come and you will brighten <br>my Sleepy Bee</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>A chili omelet she makes<br>a side of yogurt to soothe<br>the burn and milk from the<br>cow drawn as dawn's first<br>udder swells against the<br>press of distant hills where<br>the Temple soundly sleeps<br>so very pleased with itself</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mother each morning - rubbing his eyes</div><div style="margin:10px 0">as he stumbles into the garden - sings</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You may shout if you wish to wake</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the Temple for the cow cannot speak -</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wake up! Awake! Make haste! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lord Indra comes! Prepare the wicks, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">the incense sticks for Holy Fire! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hasten! Hurry! Quicken! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>There beside Indra's captured fire<br>the little grate her Bee awakens<br>watches slow movements slicing of chilies<br>removal of seeds washing again plump<br>hands cracking of eggs beating them<br>bent spoon spreading ghee sings upon<br>hot stone enchantment of liquid becoming<br>firm becoming food she turns in rhythms<br>round she rhythmically prays</div><div style="margin:10px 0">After breakfast the rose oil is<br>poured his raven hair smoothly<br>brushed his shining face his smile<br>reveals prepares him for school<br>kisses his uniform clean ironed<br>smelling too of rose scented soap</div><div style="margin:10px 0">lunch a string of chilies many colors<br>sewn together when still in a waking<br>dream smell of chapatis fresh from<br>palms to stone</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Chilies burn - he speaks slowly<br>each syllable enunciating practicing<br>through smiles -</div><div style="margin:10px 0">but the touch of her<br>hand is fire She is far away<br>but I can feel her burning<br>hand upon me now</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He is quiet</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is I who stammer</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How can one enunciate such wonder? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">2</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Krishna complains of tilting<br>his head when he speaks<br>while his hands speak<br>too in their own way of<br>entwining morning glories, <br>the morning cock already<br>at quarrel with the world<br>head tilted too just beyond<br>the tin roof reaching in to<br>steal too enticing to pass<br>the untimid spices</div><div style="margin:10px 0">3</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He will soon be bored with me, I fear, <br>my humble 'ministrations' but still he<br>sweeps into my small room - the candles<br>lit, the incense rich - a young prince<br>beaming, more stories to tell, and food, <br>spicy hot, prepared for me, an offering.<br>Smiling, he strips instantly lays upon the<br>pallet in easy, unabashed nakedness<br>a proud new tattoo of a god on his shoulder<br>he wears an amulet a sacred bracelet<br>and a waist scapular the image of which<br>is just below his navel</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So why - I ask only myself and the god, <br>never Krishna - why must I hide my large<br>wooden statue of the god? I hide it in<br>deference to Krishna's wish thus become<br>willing consort to the god-in-miniature, <br>scraping it with an ear, a tongue, receive<br>a scapular kiss its image upon my forehead<br>as I trace the wonderful hairlines of his <br>body on my way to other deities</div><div style="margin:10px 0">4</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! give me all the cabbages<br>in the world in all my poverty! <br>Am I not, too, a Raj of floors<br>and scented pillows, this heaving<br>god upon me thrusting utterly<br>to reveal Himself, His mystery<br>to me who am not a god? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">5</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So please the intemperate<br>humanity in face of patient<br>deities burning I am ill with<br>grief with prayer into now<br>emptier hands the sea<br>I am when he departs<br>the wax hardened long<br>sputtered without form</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the stories to me return</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I reach then beggars fingers<br>to my face smell his flavors there<br>remember chilies smooth skinned<br>touches whispering of lingering<br>liaisons finally come</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'and you will brighten my Sleepy Bee'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In my sputtering darkness O return</div><div style="margin:10px 0">6</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The room fills with Krishna<br>aromas of rose oil in his hair<br>pungent spices and sweat<br>upon his hands, his skin, his sex.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I retrieve the god from his little<br>sanctuary of hiding - it seems<br>I am always retrieving deities -</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and we are both laughing<br>anointing cologne upon Him<br>pour milk into the votive bowl <br>rub His belly light another candle <br>the other extinguished panting <br>while busy bees exchange knees </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and sighs diffuse male spices <br>to vapor migrant fingers upon <br>chilies thickening in always <br>morning hunger</div><div style="margin:10px 0">7</div><div style="margin:10px 0">More incense then </div><div style="margin:10px 0">thank the god in all his forms <br>appearing both large and small <br>His adornment of secrets though <br>one cannot easily hide such deity <br>man-love and more in such intimate <br>universe whose toes I tickle shoes <br>abandon as tides shrink swell <br>grow diminish upon worshipers</div><div style="margin:10px 0">those who will do so<br>in spite of those who would kill<br>delicate or manly infidels whose<br>worship - forever babies breath -<br>is all the more meaningful <br>because forbidden</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Be damned the trellises<br>the petals reach<br>shall extend outward<br>the violin's throat cut</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Do not ask me to see it </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then - deity restored to rightful place<br>good-natured from obscurity<br>again revered - return<br>to the kitchen onion slices garlic crushed<br>wine poured then begins fire O Indra<br>more aromas extend into </div><div style="margin:10px 0">entwine</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He leaves me the better for the wear</div><div style="margin:10px 0">more the better for me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">8</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He is leaving me</div><div style="margin:10px 0">will be returning to India soon</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He is departing such as our strange<br>arrangement has been almost four<br>years of weekly 'chillies gathered'<br>Sad I knew as empty hands know<br>at the start to keep the reins ever<br>taut while keeping open the heart<br>for new breaching</div><div style="margin:10px 0">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 tangles<br>of hair black, black his darker eyes shine<br>his bottom lip petulant hungry for mine and<br>those his parts smooth rivaling Everest<br>always beckoning to be climbed</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Surprises 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 </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 ghosts </div><div style="margin:10px 0">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 the mystic's launch<br>the desert dweller and the roof</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the longing tooth gnawing<br>one claws inwardly through<br>layers to find that Name that<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>the once spunk monkey's boudoir</div><div style="margin:10px 0">9</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I retrieve the god<br>from his little sanctuary<br>of hiding - it seems I am<br>always retrieving deities -</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O retrieve thou me my heart</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535657" data-title="Ragas for Sleepy Bee de Warren Falcon" data-description="for Krishna, both of them, god, man And so we began the cooking lessons the first demur approaches the blushing papayas then the fires the chilies harvested curtains drawn 1 Dawn. Slow him down. He speaks his accent thickly richly Tamil ..."></div> </div> </div>
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