
These verses I bind
With threads in my mind
Are cobwebs from corners
I once failed to find
So let it linger now and sway
Like dewdrops in day
Or beads of red rosary
No monk holds to pray

These verses I bind
With threads in my mind
Are cobwebs from corners
I once failed to find
So let it linger now and sway
Like dewdrops in day
Or beads of red rosary
No monk holds to pray

They walk alive
In rigor mortis
Of routine;
The selfsame adventures
Over and over
Till memories are maimed
Coagulated
In an endless reel
Of a single frame
Until that very end
When all goes black
And it begins again
Without palpable pause
Amidst absent applause

I go searching on a deserted street
A river breathing and hissing
Like milk from melted moon
But only the shadows are awake
Drowning in silver lake
That Sfumato lagoon
Reflecting the roots of paradise
A silence more verbose
Than that of a breathing statue;
Standing one step less of the precipice
Yet hovering over the horizon
Wingless, blind to the bottom
Of an everlasting yawn that
Morpheus divined in a dream while
Walking on a deserted street
With a burning candle in high noon
In search of river breathing and hissing
Like milk from melted moon

Days like firefly
Burn away
And those ashes remaining
As wings of memory
Cannot fly
Without a flame

Those few; they cry,
For the gold in their gauntlet
While the rest must bleed
To hold the bread in broken fist
And yet and yet, the scales they stay even,
For the fleece of the fawns weigh far less than the fang of a beast

Soon our bones shall sing
And words once said would wander
Aimlessly, answer-less, as a
Bee buzzing in the desert
For a flower under a rock
And all they who could hear shall know
That the heaven silent above is but a symptom of a world
Holding it’s breath below

The dogs in the alley
Barking for bones
Looks up at me and smile
They know I am alone
And far from home
With flesh that won’t last another mile

Earth’s orgasm
Landmine upon lips
Sealed envelope without secrets
Night skinned by the sickle moon falling from the sky
Are all impossibilities dancing amidst You and I
In the ocean of distance between our shared woes
So far apart that none of us knows
How every step upon the stars
Makes us an inch divine
And a race of million miles
Ends, with a toe across the line
Lumps of black sugar, ice in oil
World of equations proved by poetic paradox
‘The dead were once alive’ squared to the infinite equals ‘The living were always dead’
Plagiarism abound: Soul copying soul is a sin
Mind over Matter (Wrong Answer!)
Thus no one win
Burgundy bear, white hare
Wet weed on windowsill
Baskets built of bandaged hands
Turned alive as ‘Good-Bye Windmill’
Stretcher upon sidewalk
Etherised world
Vomiting vestiges
Of cannula fed time
Look around, look around
The worst has come, prepare,
This time the monsters aren’t ugly:
But smiling angels; unaware.

I remember the stories
I was told as a child
Of will-o-wisp in the woods
And wolves in the wild
But only now do I know
The truth of it all:
Only they howl at the moon
Who dare to live without a wall

Two grains of sand
Falling from my hollow hand;
I know not their weight
Nor my living warmth do they feel
We are but children to the likes of them
Playing with our potter’s wheel