HISTORY: JARCOO POEM

The fortunate wind blew me to the spot

Where the fruit was ripest

Where the shade was coolest

And the words sweetest

Then left me marooned in the colony

Of smiling scorpions

The cave of quite

Questions rained like peddles

Then coalesced into mountain that

Smile at picks

And laughed at hoes

We had to climb

With thirsty six-foot erst to right

Baking loaves of flint to the left

And limbless monkeys singing (songrocks) like dove behind

Walking down the slippery path was O! a cold delight

Questions rained like coal

Melting hearts

Warming souls

We counted in the ones at first

Now in frontier

We drank with cup at first

Now with pots

With alternate shrine begging for crumbs From the sides

And a clearing throat warning of bile

From above

Our split minds mumbled in ecstasy

While feet coated alone expectant

Questions rained like votes

Walking in and out of boxes

Wearing golden crowns

And scored sole

At shore, the wool remained

Wet on wet ground

Dry on dry ground

I begged to be let down the roof to him

But he talked on

Of chains

Of camels

Of needles and their eyes

Until he room stank of me

And I begged to be let up the roof to the winds

Lips rolled into a Q

But stopped at it as feet

Wadded through the drying sea

The seven bath worse than the first

At the piont where road meet

Were the Virgins, all hands, all jaws

The din behind

Empty and leaking pots about

A finger or two pointing forward

The middle of garden