Approaching monolithic pairs
Of weathered wood covered
In cheap plastic sheets of
Days long gone when the stores
Had no food, only salt,
Because of the withdrawal
Of white wolves with red blood.
Leaden hoops are shackled in place
By a lock with loose teeth
That no key can sink into
Without special assistance from
Small women with hair clips
Half the size of their heads
And one woman with no nose.
Time tip toes by on creaky planks
In wooden shacks set up
To hold fermenting milk and
Not much else, yet retrofitted
To hand ties and nooses
From wooden pegs tightly screwed
In place on trestled ambivalence.
The doors of Jericho finally
Swing wide open to reveal
The Buddha inside that may
Or may not be holding a lyre,
Anachronisms abound yet
Colorful in nature blinding
Our eyes to the imperfection.
Composed 07/25/2012
Author’s Note: Most cities/villages will usually have a cultural center where they can have concerts, dances, and other such festivities.
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