Marriage of Oil and Water
Cups thrust high, A diving umbrella licks at many fingers,
rose water licks - and seeks our elbows for a plunge and gathering below.
Now echoes the trumpet prelude, a brilliant flash of praise,
almost a ritual proclamation.
It matters none friend whether you're pro or con.
-When has it ever?
Let us climb the high sun groping forest,
and consume together with glee split faces,
the sloppy viscous sex of misanthropy and philanthropy.
Copyright © William Green | Year Posted 2011
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