for Mr. Shepherd.
easier said than done, that it must
be something always new,
untrodden path, uncharted ocean
carrying nothing but the flow
no ideas please he said, plain
texture, tone, color,
most importantly it must have
perfume of flowers with specific
scientific names, something that
my hands can feel and my nose can
smell, vibrant as a beat of a drum
hands synchronized with fingers hitting
the animal skin,
skin of a tiger, or a lizard
that crocodile look of a komodo
dragon inside the stone cage somewhere
in jakarta, where can all these lead me?
'do not bring it to me? ' you said,
you exclaimed, ' i had been dead'.
a very lonely white morning glory
wilted on the fence and now it is dark
and people are away in their
own private sleep.
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