Night river crossing

The pebble stones glittering
Weathercocks swooning
Quickly it rises behind them
Amidst the mango leaves
Like a tattered curtain screening
Brighting all the empty sky
Drifting easy, silveriness coiling
A serpent with luminous scales
The moonlight and river meeting
Diamond droplets melting down
Tender reverie, immense, cool
River breeze, two hands glancing


Summer’s end


Clinging to dry grass

Low monsoon sun

Crows, one by one

Calling, low monsoon sun

The distant mountains

Under an umbrella

In the mouth-gulp!

Esoteric bank

In the northern banks of the great river, you’ll collect the whiskers of a great white leopard. He wanders along the banks still, though the jungle has fallen. He has thus surrendered his colours. These eyes will meet yours in 2024. The mystic path shines a blinding hue and no end can be seen while on it. Perish if you would turn away from the endless winding woody pathway along the water, where yesterday I was drowning in the warm and glacial waters. Along the sandbank you will see the same unsteady footsteps as I staggered and stubbed my toes envious of the unclasping of sacred scrolls.

The jade canopy turns to a shadow over the pebble glass, the lingering plastic cobwebs on branches wait for the water creeping. The welts of mosquito bites guard the heavenly fold in the shaking voices of birds. The dew will settle over both still and out-worn hearts where twilight once walked. Between the mangrove roots I found a clear view of the eddies gleaming in the light of the minds eye. Well deserved saline plunge, the flowerbeds the only lantern, stillness the midwife of rebirth on the lofty grass.

No rain

I see the underbellies of birds, dark and undistinguishable feathers below the bursting but blue clouds.
The sky is without sunlight, the colour wrapping it is like the old womb of industry, revolutionary but past, the iron furnaces are gone. The air is untainted and silent. There is no chill or heat, neither fire nor ash. Only unwavering pleasant swirls of gusty drafts, painting the motions of a storm but never reaching one.

Heaven & Earth

Never marked by sunbeams glancing off hilltops

Shower after shower leaving behind greenlight

Hiding their crests in dishevelled tree tops

Lurid shimmers behind the tresses of clouds

Steaming vaults of black and blue serenity

The dense tide of a coming monsoon

The mire dallying in water and an older season


The closed eye is a part of everything

It is in the sky and the sea

It is in the dreams of children at night

It is all that there is forever

On my own

I don’t even know

Any colours anymore


Immeasurable legions of white clouds close rank

Leaving a clear blue path the size of a fist

What wonder the heavens hold, we thank

Neither Buddhists nor Neo-Realists