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The honey southern soil
The honey southern soil clung elegant to those shoes from the moment you exited the plane.
But hidden in their leather buttresses is the dust of the land of American imagination
Where no fruit is grown except from the knowledge tree,
A tongueful of leather and velvet veiling each pocket of juice.
Tell me it’s not so simple as scarf covers stilettos, stilettos cut scarf.
Giggle like a woman and tell me of the sinewy dominion of secrecy.
"Tell me it’s not so simple
"Tell me it’s not so simple as scarf covers stilettos, stilettos cut scarf".
I don't know what these words mean, exactly, but I like them. I think they are a reference to rock paper scissors. ( how do you spell scissors?).I saw that you requested to be my friend and I would be delighted, but this stupid format covered up part of your message with the crap on the right (of every damn page-- underneath the 'will you help please--donate' stuff) and I couldn't see which was your almost Buddhist poem you were referring me to. Nor could I find a place to click and accept your friend request. This dilemna reminds me of a great poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti (not sure of the spelling of that last name) about a newspaper he is reading that has a big hole in it and so the main point of every article is not there. Very funny poem, from the early 60's (late 50's?) My email address is slanfia@yahoo.com . Any friend of L.C. is a friend of mine.
I'll try to friend request you. Maybe you'll have better luck clicking.