Soul Sounding Music Poem by Mae Witt

Lazily, disdaining up above the sky to pursue
As the setting of the sun is too indolent to hold
such a tournament is lengthened and embedded in gold
while the sun passively darkens for a nights barbecue

I sit beneath a silvery moon hearing barking hounds
for some men have orgies near the genious of the South
with blood-shot eyes and sweet sugar-caned lips and scented mouth
such surprising sounds while making folk songs like soulful sounds

Their music vibrates above pine trees made up like guitars
strumming, picking and singing in falls like pittering rain
their lofty voices thus sing songs of endearments in vain
many are now caroling a vesper up to the stars

Mighty singers I hear resinous your throaty of songs
they are heard so sacredly like a whisper within the pines
were they given to virgin lips and cornfield concubines
to hear dream of Christ till I meet dusky cane-lipped bongs.

MJ W.