By Bobak Cyrus Bakhtiyari
March 31, 2004
All the Rulers, the origins of carved Kingly grins.
The Magis, and fortune card dealers, the city of Bam
With the in-between curse of Jupiter's eyes,
Now dusted in cluttered grins of gallowed skin.
A maramalade sunrise!
Pedals, distant delicious green,
Bones in trunks of cars,
Fallen clay dives
The bones, the bones,
Rivers running beneath.
Distant tomes of the dirt-hollering Ancients,
Collapsed ventricles dance
These bones, the multitude of trenches, bent
The crooked grasp!
The coral dance.
Ripe grieving beneath blind veils, the sowing begins.
Bring the santur, Bring the violin,
Bam eats strawberries, they watch now
From within Wakeful Bahhs of billowing sky arteries,
The mourning tides
Piercing their Paradise highs as they
Eat around the crispy Oak tree,
Of the bismillllahs and ashadoallahs
And the sky of doves
Over the hills of the clutched (Thrones),
These united bones.
Wait now for the movements clay-spun palms
Until the lions return with their silent whiskers of
Wander, wander-in on down to the Citadel,
With kissed souls,
And no more excuses for taming hearts with erosive
For while the hearts of Bam held on with
The meandering shoelaces
Of Vayu's dance
Through the morning hours
With Mithra's peppered stroll,
Into Kiyumarz' bones they
The meadows of rubies,
The Lunar Mansion
.................... Spam?! Khalaas!