One-day friends gathered in a sacred place
Began talk that caused one to hide their face
and while the friend was feeling some “distress”
the jester to his pen and drew dolphins on their chest
to display the limit of cleverness
leis of fluffy roses smiled and looked on
but didn’t say a word.
“do they all have lapis lazuli?”
“Yes but the roses obscure Giridhari’s”
As Gecko and I entered the spacey highway we saw el Siddhamuni hiding in the weeds camouflage on. Meeting with friends and who to wandering eyes should appear but Mahamuni himself! “Fancy meeting you here” is said together. “Do you wear J.C. Waterwalkers?” “well not if they’re made of leather.” “How might you avoid that pox so vile?” “right now I’m doing some kind of plastic crocodiles” A couple of weeks ago there was a sighting of a rat and now he wants to bring a cat” “Good, but it must be pure and simple and trained not to come in the temple”
It came time to say good-bye and Gecko and I began to fly. El Siddhamuni carefully emerged from the camouflage and weeds he started east but veered to the west. Gecko and I went around the motorcycle shops and foreign cars to the lion’s park to see the stars. Campa hatti to the left and through the village the cruisers are between the lakes and the harbor has about half it’s boats in due to the midweek, chill and dark. Gecko takes leave at the shop and I sneak through the treacherous triangle. The whalers are on the left and they sing out as I pass. I hear an aluminum bat clank on the field. Over the first highway I feel like it might be getting late and so I hammer to the long and winding. I have slow to a spin past the ratha-bhojana-vrksa and have the kalarupa pull me along to the ceremony that’s about to begin. In the end the Kernel of Divine love pulls out his bass and chasing each other around a tree we turn into a pool of melted butter.
Looking out the back door some deer are grazing. This evening “o deer dough have you seen Krsna?” is the nightdress’ name. Mahaprabhu’s short kirta and dancing skirt are a little hard to put on him but not a complete bear. Giridhari has his much fuller coat to go with Gandharvika’s flower belt and satin veil. The rest well this evening after their busy day.
Going to the kitchen before the break of day
make the Deities a milk sweet
and hope they’ll want to eat
after mangala arati when the bathing’s done
come to the altar and help them put their Diet Olive on
Leis of rose petals along with smaller flowers
people come for darsana and get mesmerized for hours
happy that one day when this life is done
they are able to remember the Deities with their Diet Olive on
over the first highway and past the whalers who are still singing. At the post office a beast nicely let me pass but the recumbent pedaler behind me shouts at the beast. Wild. Leave at the shop by Gecko but I went on to the nava patra. Circling Saint Dagwood’s park to the corner and around to the reviewing stand. Past the house that taught choc-o-lot to talk-a-lot. The tennis park is on the right. The toad road takes me to the wharf road. Left there on to the long and winding. The ratha-bhojana-vrksa sees me and sends the sandhya to collect me and get me there on time. The shank blows and the people enter to see the ceremony begin.
A miracle mom, the nightdress that was made so fast especially for the seamstress that it was hard to believe. Purple and gold with the cloud cover they may sneak out for dancing.
Mrdangas beating faster
Kirtan’s getting hot
People of the village wonder if it will ever stop
I’m no brahmana you know that’s right
Guru Maharaja was born just about midnight
Fell head over heels for Mahaprabhu
Demigods disguised as people
Ghosts take the form of cats
Brother stationed at the door to put a stop to that
Guru Maharaja was born just about midnight
Fell head over heels for Mahaprabhu
Thakur’s bodies beautify the ornaments they wear
Leis round their necks perfume the air
Stock and orchids floating without a care
Guru Maharaja was born just about midnight
Fell head over heels for Mahaprabhu
Gecko and I take off for a program at Om Paramahamsa Thakura’s bhajan kutir. Sprinting past the campa hatti, clank of the aluminum bat, the whalers, and through the treacherous triangle. On the beach hill I pass another pedaler who then came back and looked over at me “What happened old man?” “I don’t know” I answered. Then he told me “go ahead” it made me wonder since I dusted him well after that. On from the kutir to the sufferer thakura, the spinner’s church and back past the leaping monque. Gecko takes leave at his shop and I break for the harbor. Between the lakes the geese honk and the sufferers cross the road. the windmill stands to watch and the soccer pitch is on the left. From the wharf road to the long and winding I hammer to the ratha-bhojana-vrksa folding my palms and taking the kalarupa with me. The sandhya is happy to see me on time.
Deep within the far off jungle is the nightdress tonight. They are determined to stay up late. The parama anna burnt twice but third time was the charm. All this time running between the altar and the kitchen and keeping them together later they happily jumped into their beds.