i walked through ravines and the city green
chimes pealing and lemon-dry paint blinding
but the walls put up by its citizens and strangers
endless fingerprints in the supporting mud
remind me of a home.
more than anything else the festival
the festival! it comes a few times a year like flowers
blossoms and calls those triangles singing out
to artists and warriors and kings and queens
and you and me.
this is my twenty-second of such festivals
such festivals! they die a few times a year like flowers
i always visit the palace and its three or four fortresses
as well as the second island where i was stationed once
long ago.
and today like those days when the houses are full
we are all swept along by the river of what's next
not knowing or not accepting the inevitable tomorrow
that comes after tomorrow that comes after tomorrow
because we only have todays.