from two sources

In the plush, red evening
a lass lurks meekly
in the corner-bar --
inquiring with a glance

her words render themselves so true
and lightness
can shine so brightly at midnight,

She tries to understand meaning
of the words
like a cock
between her thighs -- but alas !
she is stupid in the heartaches
of the divine

While Kathleen comes
a-courting
through the meadows
and the street --

her hungry eyes wander
like an orangutan

the apricots of the morning
rested as a happy breakfast

their fuzzy skin
along the surface

and they sing
as morning
swinging through
the branches

the orangutan bustles
through the bushes

he searches
endlessly
for endurance

the apricot is a seed
pondering itself

and still I cannot
find myself
among this heap of ashes
and clay

and cannot lay hands
on the soul
the spirit, itself,
among these seeds,
these thoughts
tending toward
enlightenment --

the hope of seeds
bearing fruit in the winter
is too much
for the winter mind to handle

how can roses bloom
in the deep freeze
of ignorance and ice
through the bellows of our age

how can the cattle call the dawn
and the cowboys corral the shepherds
who lead the sheep - excited
by Nietzsche --

in the guise of a dream
the torch is passed ...

the limbs are piled
with winter snow
and the cat claws
as jazz

snap trigger and
smiles , , imagine
interpose
engaged in
mythic attributes

clause of final breath
snow contemplates
breath final breathed

as Billie Holiday mourns
her attributes
her robust tundras
of thighs

the midnight jazz
cannot be
so kind
as the silent
midnight moon

when viewed from tressel
with the raging
Stillwater
gushing underneath

only then do two sources meet
the sacred in the profane
leaving us with a dream

and philosophy
in its wake ...

By Josh Harriman & Randy Billings .