French Gypsies, Yale Joel
In mitten drinnen...
of Rilke's ode to orphean praise,
I felt langour and a pall of a doyna's
haze.
ever trembling, ever groining scurvy malaise,
but doyna is mercurial flirting with
praise,
a sultry dance, a pulsing pelvic haze.
if a mitzve tantz knew of gypsy ways,
threw away the yoke with passion and play,
new couplings and cleavage would burn
and then fade.
No comments:
Post a Comment