Dream of citars and elephants and shamen.
Of spices and Krishna, magical mysteries not known--
At least to the mundane and gentile.
Dream! Dream of
Truths just out of grasp,
Of spells that could work
On a different continent,
In a different time,
When laymen are sages
And milkwomen goddesses.
But remember that in India,
There are children playing in the streets,
Hide and seek,
Tag.
And the Hare Krishna fuck
Like animals.
Author notes
Was the idea of this poem expressed neatly? The theme came to me very clearly but I'm not sur if it translated well into a poem.
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