13 March 2018

Easy skanking, a poem by Geoffrey Philp

all saturday evenings
should be like this, caressing
your thigh while reading neruda
with his odes to matilde's arms,
breasts, hair—everything about her
that made him
a part of this bountiful earth—
lilies, onions, avocados—that fed
his poetry the way
rain washes the dumb cane with desire
or banyans break through asphalt—
this is the nirvana that the buddha
with his bald monks and tiresome sutras
never knew or else he'd never have left
his palace and longing bride—
the supple feel of your leg in my hands
for which i'd spin the wheel of karma
a thousand lifetimes, more

Geoffrey Philp

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