An ocean's phantoms surge
Bellicose in my mind
A sort of dreamy dirge
By all the lurking things that crawl
Behind the light

Verily i would purge
Myself of these unkind
Accompanists who merge
With fathoms in the crystal ball
To bind the light

But i must still indulge
Or else my shores are blind
And hurl me only bilge
And leave me as a wizard thrall
Maligned by light

08 17 04

Listening to- Aida (Zubin Mehta, 1967).

"Flippancy, the most hopeless form of intellectual vice..." --New Grub Street