Dharmic Saxophone Poem by luke holt

I swing like a mantra
A wasp with a brilliant pea mind
((a slit pea, like me, poisonous chi))
Flowing out like foam from the in flared nostrils of a rabid badger
A trillion galaxies in a single tear
Bubonic vermin insinuate a demonic dervish with suggestive
anthropomorphic breasts
Embryonic nooses
Bland, stark, bleeding, limp and deceased
Rains of a thousand gargoyles loom over the ectoplasmic lake
Dripping with cold mud and miasma
Haunting ravens with knives in the backs of lovers spines
THE CELTIC HILL!
Resting place of my soft reply!
An owl hoots with no thought other than how sad,
Deep, sullen and proud he must have been to bury his affections like a
dead beaver floating in a wretched canyon
Beside an opal necklace

A jester bleeds in full hoarse screams
Like a boundless christ enthralled

The song of a brazen child with a snowball
Waltzing to his mother like the charismatic womanizer he will grow up to be

Thirsty for the chilled wine which summons the blatant corpulence of the sultan
A hidden curse
Transcendent in the topaz grains in which we hide our feelings
A deep moving picture

((sax solo))