Forms Rare

Forms Rare

the ill of me is not universal
one small clown, temporarily down
from flights of fugue
I can't stay this way

it made my ink think
the other day while watching war
I like so many things
regardless of crazy men

French are fine with wine and food
a Louvres filled with great art
pride fails to dilute contempt
drawn from surrounding worlds

Afghanis seem so stark
yet I remember seeing
the most beautiful eyes in the world
on an Afghani girl

I knew an Iraqi woman once
childlike and lovely
who gave me a birthday present
a small iron bowl

odd you may think
but that was very long ago
we lost touch
except when I touch the neverending

she told me when I opened that gift
smiling at my questioning eyes
"it's for a candle, but truly
it's so you never forget me

Celt knots of life bind me
convolutedly and comfortably tied
with gifts from many lands
how can we hate so?

in forms rare we connect, disconnect
I'm sorry about the world
but I never had much trouble
one on one, foreign to me

Tang horses, samovars, Sufi script
rare jewels, strange clothes, unknown tongues
art, grace, love, traditions fine
forget religions, we share time

tableau earth, tableclothed lands
beauty oft made with gnarled hands
It's a sin that we make gods
who pull life out from under us