A twig snaps
death of starlight
singularity awaits
Category: Poem
Bird calls
In the morning trills and calls of birds perched out of sight
And in the branches clouding out the dark and rainy sky
I remember the sound and din of village life, dragonflies in flight
By the brook-bank snails, moss, tadpoles and fish, all in my minds eye
Mossy rocks and slimy pebbles from the riverbed
The voices of frogs rining over the damp soil
The snakeskin shed but never touched, it’s poison they said
Glacier
Frozen in place, held icy by your sight
immured in water, white light cutting right through
I shudder heavy in the cold and murky depth
I awake my skin tingling, the shivers and shuddering
scars and warm blood rushing, feeling the cutting edge
in every breath in, burning rushes of thought and lively delight
my mind quiet, I smile back.
Running away
Snakeskin on the mossy rocks
Left behind after a long winter rain
Her tears allowing, beetles in fight
Followed by cat ears, seated on the ledge
By the old kitchen fireplace
Tracing the smoke stone walls
Light of an old bulb hanging by a wire
The old magazines stiff, wooden cupboards and rafters
Kerosene lamps made of bottles
Red Mangalore tiles and red oxide floors
Just a day visiting, escaping
To old village life
Shiver
I feel the moon tide, in night rain
A bird calls
In the garden cobblestone, I see a shadow
Through the light of the sicklemoon
A bird calls
First a demon, then the Buddha
A storm cloud
Crumbling Polaroid
step by step
i remember a séance
step by step
family pictures
night after night
the bright moon arrives
step by step
their damp hair
among vigorous young leaves
of early winter
heat shimmering
faces aligning
the moonlight waning
a world of dew
begins to fall
red morning sky
how cold the wind
Everyday divine
My grandmother says the Gods must be alien
In their multitude, incomprehensible
They only build temples
Where dacoits would otherwise hide
Prenicious
waving as I pass
sudden craving
in father’s name
cold as snow
the moon reflected
a flower opens
red dragonfly
I climbed the hill to find
only a butterfly
Ripped off
Suddenly, I heard some talking
How they were opining, confining – quarantining
It was arithmetic, bolshevik, nonstick!
I crave the alive, adjunct, adjacent
All my fears within me interlocking
That much sitting – that much fuming
All my soul within me wafting
I threw my dwelling upon the floor
What could there be, more purely yours?
That flat, flat cottaging
It threw its ghost against its habits
The ownership brought such sorrow
That immovable owner – that irremovable owner
Deep into that darkness lofting
And so you came gently sniffling
Only this and property
And the enclosure never signing
I crave the smiling, speaking snick
There stood only deceitful arithmetic
Midday shower
a Dragonfly on an electric wire
sheltering under a unseasonable shower
droplets clinging to his legs
a miracle! unperturbed, un-moving
the rain crashing about him
