That elephant over there,
kneels on the keystone,
reciting a thousand names
that run together.
Vedic sounds coated red,
through lucid mists
he said he stands
for love-
in thirty-two ways,
in twenty-nine days.
As it is customary
for February,
to drop in on dreams
and sow fertile desire
where wild light will
cast an epic tragedy.
When love grows,
that one over there named
Ganesha, strokes his rats hair
and dances on the tips
of his round toes,
spinning his chakras
and juggling icy hearts
he freezes a moment
with potential, spouting
prisms of inertia
retracting all the
matterless time
resting on balance.
Strands of helmikuu,
pearly wisdom hung
around your neck,
possess and strangle
with the charm of love.
Toxic lust set in an
amulet of broken trust.
Ganesha says Love
cannot survive the possibility
of a moonless month.
He comes to say,
only February has space
and time to give and gets
to jump all over juxtapositions
of weight and gravitate in
centripetal passion.
Crucified by greed,
immaterial layers;
the rose, crystallized rocks.
His trunk is too full
to maintain refrain or
balance on shaky propositions
only to land on sharp ultimatums.
Peircing reality, I fell hard.
I was left alone with red.
Ganesha left the room.
It was all a dream,
I saw upon waking
my blue body still aching.
I kept the pretty pearls.
Image painted by elephant in Thailand, uploaded By Deror Avi (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Feature image (top) By Udunuwara at English Wikipedia (Transferred from en.wikipedia to Commons.) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
