Sunday, August 23, 2009

Thomas Rain Crowe

Wake up Winebringer! And pour me a glass of wine.
Throw dust on the head of this sad earth man.
I’ve taken off my snazzy blue coat and bare-chested
I clutch this full cup.
Even though the rich or the politicians call us “trash,”
To us their blue blood or fame means nothing.
Give me more wine! All their dust blowing around in the wind of pride
And desire is as worthless as a hole.
The smoke from my burning heart
Gags all those with ignorance as their goal.
My mad heart has a secret
That no one knows.
The Beloved has stolen even the sweet solitude from my heart,
And I am content.
No one who has ever laid eyes on this silver-limbed Cypress,
Would ever go looking in the woods for a cypress again.
“Hafez,” the voice of inner wine will say;
“Be careful what you ask for, you may just get what you want."

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