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painted poem #17/21

The Scent of Jasmine

a Contrapuntal

in India I found if nothing else

cowbell clangor persists life remains peculiar

it will haunt you in the end a life

clanking with joy is laid bare

dizzy with morning all roads lead

jasmine-scented to where we are going

beyond the gate in the midst of birth and

in his tattered turban and lungi death

the watcher stands guard as we are dismantled

translucent as hunger at last we give in to the pull

and the thirst that gathers the love

in the alabaster eye of this great dark storm

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