Purple and red good what an ordinary name the seamstress said
Just between you, and me it’s not what I would choose to do
“Asvatama is dead!” Yudhisthira cried as a conch shell blew
was it man or elephant? who knows which is which and who is who
with and without everyone knew it’s what the dice game was about
“Sukuni is cheating, the dice are loaded!” a voice from the sky cried
yudhisthira couldn’t win no matter what he tried
roses and marigolds picked from the garden of gaura nataraja
the friends are waiting at cy’s place. From there murkha and I are off to the village via the wharf road. tourists are beginning to arrive for the weekend and stake their claims. Between the lakes are the sufferers who are talking with the geese. By the time we get to the natasala the line is half a block long. I take my leave as Murkha rounds the corner to see the cruiser king. Spinning along the main street over the first highway he comes to the long and winding where he hears the call of the ratha-bhojana-vrksa and the kalarupa pulls him to the sandhya where the kernel of divine love is the greeter once again
deep within the far off jungle nightdress tonight. It’s still getting too cool when the sun goes down to go off to dance directly under the moon and stars still they are dancing and dancing all night long.