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By the tulips people stop to
take Pictures. One wonders which are more Beautiful: the people or the tulips? Lush, almost flourescent, like cups, Like vases, like wet crimson towels Hanging loose about the naked style. Or an Annamese girl in striped mini Just below her drawers, on her forehead A pale red moon. Or two Indian women In brilliant prints and gold nose pellets, Nipples pressing through silk. Or an old Man with his mother, identical blue chips Glinting through corrugated skin. Families Like flower beds, varieties of love And anguish, phenotype and genotype, And Babel, magnificent garden! Or the glory of laughter, that needs No language, the glee of children racing Away, the silence of tulips calling Wildly, pouring out love in perfume. Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
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