or perhaps a moroccon moon on a flamingo pool....

tangier owls in casbah smoke sip lapsang through the night allah could be the old fat man passing pipes around in the halo of spider house light     fruit bats hang in the darkest places     they bring sudden death to pests     allah could be the look of fear     that sings the insect breath hysteria mahjoun kief piednoir gamble in silk and lace allah could the ridge of the dice that makes sixes show their face       out away from town in the mountains       of haschichians                which just as easily                       could be allah climbing                       yet again                       one step at a time to                       dine in this old mortuary                       or perhaps                       instead a teahouse in old nepal   where the soul vibrates       with the bass of a gong    lightly touched in old senegal allah could be the mallet  or perhaps instead   the exact moment in time the dimpled brass met hammers kiss      or perhaps the microchip that spins the fans of                                                                                          this whiring box that conjured the djinn you kissed letters of the digital cabal or the last name on any old list... Written February 23rd, 2002 © on Feb 23 2002 03:12 PM PST   0 • 13