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Locrian Trills
Tirelessly tapping the ecliptic elixir of modernity
the marionette hurls pebbles at minarets
The rot of this wretched wine vivified his rapturous pith
platting the tombs of his sodden salience
The pangs of arousal cleave onto the inebriated mannequin
his locked lips pipe the Piper’s mantras
the rodent destines himself for delirious denigration
He is no different than a bee that
tarries too long in a lotus moments before dusk
the last man siestas at the altars of nectar-laced honeycombs
like Himalayan dew reposing in Tibetan singing bowls
The grape of his wine
like red rubies that incarnadine
the spokes of a regal petal
Flinging the wooly garbs of forgiveness
he glaciates himself in this numinous tundra
for his newfound treasure
was nothing but fool’s gold
His unsatiated cravings
Locrian trills of a libidinous choir
ruefully recede into the crepuscule
Copyright ©
Shiraz Bautista
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