Monday, June 4, 2007

Paiku à la Piquée

This post is destined to have a small readership. Alas. To add colour and interest, I append this picture. Mexican hot chocolate (too good to be true) amidst the books on offer for casual reading at the Witching Well. For those short of eyesight, there is a book called Deerdancer, which is about shamanic shapeshifting, a book on love magic, and a beginner's guide to Scrying, which is communication with the spirits. I really am living la vida loca here.

Mountains sing to clouds,
Another bloody rain dirge.
Please don’t hum along.

Man, if you dig Pai
Get yourself to In-deeee-aaah.
With a spade, I guess.

Tribal tatts and dreads
Mark the anthropologists.
Tough dress code, this.

I float like a stone;
Monsoon strikes the yoga class.
Will this hut float too?

Mangos thunder down,
Sweet tropical torpedos.
There goes the moment.

3 comments:

Unknown said...

In honour of your haikus (haiki?) and meditations upon south-east asian prisons I respond with haiku a la Foucault:

Carceral discourse
Polyvalently deployed.
Hot air gently blows.

And respond with my own in honour of his high priestiness mr Robbins:

Gaultier fails me
Oh my kingdom for a beet!
Chanel, the bell tolls...

trixie said...

mountains of somtum
wrinkly farangs, hot young birds
catri drinks singha.

Norris said...

Oh my Red Buddha!
Where did you get your talent?
non-self arisen genius.

One of London's few fine days,
spent inside with internet.
Outside I met a squirrel.