Solarity

Solarity’s Bright Shadow

Word is were we perfect
we wouldn’a had t’be born;
that said had wegot perfect
we wouldn’er’ve had to die !
but seein’s how perfect’s
not a riff our drum e’en permits
we gon’ play while the sun shines &
when it sets we gon’ play some more

You sparked to my love for my sunnysides
and I must confess my moonsides cry out
for love jus’ the same & the both of ‘em
blend & change & switch places till my
Moons are my Suns and my Suns are my Moons
and sometimes one cheek’s the moon
while side by side the other cheek’s the sun
and they are both your riffin’ rosy drums in fact

So for the both of us the mundane is but a mask
our thoughtful dialogues in intricate intimacy
we are both players and plumbers & the beat
pulses o’er my risen riffin’ rosy drums at Dawn
thru Morning’s steepening toil and runs down
thru the heavy hot of deep sweated Noon’s
begotten afternoon Spell till Dusk-light lifts
Night back up o’er our set, like a curtain rising

The sweating drums resound as sparks fly forth
wetting the Sun, warming the Moon, plumbing till
the Cry of Ecstasy escapes again and again across
Earth’s upturned curve, till the begging of each
Moon’s beaming wails joy’s burning, till the full
& fertile rays of the Sun’s lancing cause flows
of honey and butter that erupt upon the plain,
lunar solidarity infusing solarity’s bright shadow.