Thursday, November 27, 2014

Wednesday, October 29, 2014


You are the earth
And I the sky.
You send me your birds
Every once in a while;
I give them the clouds
The Sun and the wind.
I send you my rains
Every once in a while;
You give them the thirst
The song and a Sea.

Monday, October 27, 2014


I'm trying to describe how I feel
When you take leave of me
At the end of the day
And I see a brown bird breaking
Out of lone clouds
With full throated calls
Wings majestically still
And my hands like ants' tentacles
Searching to comprehend the largeness
Of a strange thing that fills the void
Move up the air in front.

And I'm trying to describe how I feel
When you take leave of me
At the end of the day.


I hear you call it again.

I have lent it to some before,
Kept it from some,
And though rarely,
Even changed it for some.

I had put it letter by letter in boxes,
And made totems out of it.
But after the excursions
It always came back like
A sullen and silent child.

A history more proper than its bearers’,
An essence deeper than a lifetime of wear:
A name always keeps to itself half its secret.

Time in spate froths off its silt on a name –
A fine silt that glistens in the sun,
Throbs in the rain, and hardens in winter.

You weeded it
And sowed a dandelion;
See, it has sprung again – 
Each silvery down in its fluff
Alert, glowing, as you call it.

I hear you.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014


The witching hour past, the night grows sane.
The wisps of yellow sun pulseless remain
Enclosed in bluish pods half-poignant:
The dreamless slumber of tired children.

Now, toss the amber bead of poetry,
Quip, exorcise the womb of memory.


A street winked
The fading smear of a wall.
A darting bridge.
A lonely dog.
Hurrying asphalt.
A company of smokers.

It is hard to come to terms with:
the world only absently watches
as I, windowed, nightwards vanish.

Out of the Sea

The wave of your silence crawls over
And bites
On the candescent sands
And ebbs –
                   With a half-moon off my heart.