RAINBOW DOOR
Lagoon coughing with frogs,
directing breath to mist the pines,
Dumuzi, another Orpheus, the Quickener,
plays havoc with our minds.
Parched men stumble, sit and dump
a shoe-load of sand where beached beauties,
gals aligned on towels resting,
simmer in oils until lethally golden.
Ultra-violet eye of the desert
records the passage of adolescence,
freckled exuberance seeking fatherhood.
Sons of the father lost in white sands
are longing to take the reigns of the fiery chair,
the life guard's post, the sky-god's seat,
to drive across his blue-white realm
in search of elusive rainbows where the mist
deflects our light to earth.
It draws you into the desert, a nudie mood,
the drop of a flower, fall of a petal,
hides a thought within a sister grape, a mother palm
who seeks the Quickener lost in sister hell.
Dumuzi chants his up-to-the-minute news,
the power of weather and ghost of the times,
a lot of deadly press about motherhood lines,
and clay men raised by desert dogs.
Nature just feels like myth when it takes
the river by storm, impregnates a hundred goats.
God and devil share the same woman,
eat from the same fruit, blame the same goat.
It settles in, the mist that finds the date palm,
a swamp man that finds his mate,
and the great rainbow, cold, collecting the dew,
detecting a door in the dark, arches open.
ŠJimmy Warner Design, 2011
