Uncommonly calm;
wrapped up in the wet
neo-Dionysian
socializing rituals
of the hopeless and
hope-full.

If you are taught
a new way to live,
pay attention.
If you are a taught
a new way to exist,
take action.

Sweet roses, soft sage,
and the succulent
river of Jordan.
The island of Paul,
and his stoned nervous
s-tutter:

"My head is your head,
or something like that."

Some young urban
myth-makers
cower under the curious gaze
of open flowering souls;
guiding their eyes
downward, they push away,
through the crush.

Cue: The warm naked
peace of a melting
Sunday morning.