Songs without Words

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Singing hair, speaking hair,
the shouting tongue, a lapper and a kisser
but now taking it easy
rolling, blowing as if whispering
“elephant”
laughing

An electric phantasm, but
elusive phantasmagoria
Deeply verdant threads on a velvety specimen of sweater
dyeing the waves
the old-fashioned way:
brush, brush, sweeping the blue out of the blue-green tincture
the purest cerulean-indigo emigrating
to paint white cotton into warm and worn denim –
a subtle approach under the chorus of heavy airs and salts

Ridges in the wooden planks
miniaturized onto shy fingers that seek like-minded accomplices
for a carefree warming spree
a palm of pink, unfolding its wings into a balmy resort
of dunes and layered sands
and a few palms of green

Interleaving destinies hobble along together
wriggling their noses and ears
Smudges on affectionate blushes
adorned with spots and pimples
unwinding with a taut stretch
and wholesome breaths laden with serpentine mirages
Condensing with a cognate gaze
Sprinkles of a yearning blossom of desire
under the chorus of heavy airs and salts