traveller

March 13, 2007

He makes things, people, passes
a guitar at parties and taps
you with his bongos. He paints
women in a flourish of holy curve,
all different,

speaks of supplying
tourists in Goa, learning from monks
in Dharamsala, tripping
with hippies left over from
the lotus that all but died.

The world streams around him,
selfish as love. He parts
foliage and cage bars
bend. His kindness is as
natural as feathers.

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2 Responses to “traveller”

  1. “hippies left over from
    the lotus that all but died.”

    good companion piece, perhaps, to the works of Robert Crumb. I’ve just read this after recently flicking through R. Crumbs “Coffee Table Art Book”

    except he doesn’t paint women quite how you describe.

    shine on, you crazy diamonds, if you have any shine left.

  2. It’s a sort of amalgam of two people I know, altered for the purposes of poetry (though some people just are poetry, don’t you think?). I’ll have a look at Robert Crumb’s work, thanks.

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