Black Marigolds...

Twas Mike that introduced me to Black Marigolds.
Interesting coincidence.

Even Now
I mind the coming and talking of wise men from towers
where they had thought away their youth.
And I, listening, found not the salt of the whispers of my girl.
Murmer of confused colors as we lay near sleep;
Little wise words and little witty words,
wanton as water, honied with eagerness.

Even now
I remember that you made answer very softly,
We being one soul, your hand on my hair
the burning memory rounding your near lips
I have seen the priestesses of Rati make love at moonfall
And then in a carpeted hall with a bright gold lamp
Lie down carelessly anywhere to sleep.