20/21

i

too many opinions
on Vampire Weekend
synchopated rhythms
repetitive chorus
remind me
(inexplicably)
of an Eye of Horus
hidden in my treasure box
reminder of a life
long before my own
a little boy i would oneday love
stealing fingers in Cairo
a desert i have never seen
places i have never been
in synchopated rhythms
and repetitive chorus
reminding me
(inexplicably)
of an Eye of Horus.

ht. (2.1.10)

ii

a scrap of song
on infinite loop
chases its tail
through the fabric
of a day
woven in between the threads
(lowland)
of doing and driving
(lowland)
chopping onions, making soup
(lo-owland)
washing dishes, making tea
(they sank him)
between the steady click
of knitting needles
(in the lowland sea)
it plays
again
and again
only the refrain of
the Golden Vanity.

ht. (2.2.10)