Sanctification
The pimples on my face
seem to have an identity
of their own.
As if, those are my sins
penalized to be worn.
However, they make me look
a graceful lesser mortal.
Thankfully unattractive
like Sycorax.
A rose infested by fungi.
Oddly, they seek a lot of attention:
Hormonal imbalance? A digestive disorder?
A passion pimple! A dispassionate cycle?
Innumerable diagnosis followed...
Conation
Between perceived hurts and intended harm
I cottoned myself to a kingdom of one. Here
even the wind fails to tease me. Air-condition-
ing has its advantages in intramural settings.
Earthshine is nature’s compensatory face. How
does the human construct simulate this model to
hum its way to happiness? Game plan is within
us. Unwrap yourself:...
from DARKLING (1)
The sea is one nocturnal emphasis:
I speak to you across distances like a code
in war. The mothers of the universe are your whores.
I am your daughter, and you are roses in bloom.
I know this because I was an empty blossom
holding your tongue in eclipse. Science doesn’t attempt.
I...
Birds
Every star has a crack
This is how the flash
releases the radiance
of living things
To make sense of this
is to know that
a bird’s migration is
the stars magnetic draw
the conveyor from North
to South and back again.
This generates a bright effect
on our lives
because birds are a testament
to the lightness of innocence
to the graceful...
Tarmac Labyrinth
Have you ever forgotten a road
only to travel through it
years later?
The old smell of it coming back,
the same branches leaning towards
same shadows designing it
weaving nets
The same emptiness and
potholes.
Doesn’t it make you reminisce
about the things you passed?
Left behind?
Glanced at and Ignored?
If you haven’t tried to recollect
the stops you made...
wisdom
fire burning to coals
poet looking past embers
seeing distant world
before existence of light
coming of god
untitled
poet on edge
meds not refilled
lost in black silence
static white noise
echoing around skull
deafening suffering soul
seriously considering
ways to kill himself
answer me
telephone without voice
no caller id
broken-hearted poet
wondering if ex-lover
quietly bagging
shrink
routine family counseling
necessary before divorce
doctor’s dark office
framed degrees on the...
BLOOD
1
I see the blood
in hands of others
faces of others
smeared like fog
or smog,
I lift myself from clouds
a thin line wavers
as I walk into the existence
of blood
2
I ask questions
the voice is silent
asks questions
can you rape an eight
year old, six months
the voice is silent
of course, only at
the cost of blood
3
I saw a...
The Widow’s Nights
“Days are not so bad.
My volunteer work.
Lunch with friends.
Gardening.
All of these fill the daytime hours.
But it is the nights—
they are so long, so very long.”
I don’t know how to respond.
We smile at each other in
a moment of silence.
Then, she adds, “If you have
any alterations you need done,
bring...
Jalebi of Mani’s Shop
These semi-precious ornaments
Of liquid golden hue, they filled it with the sweet sap
Of sugar—the very outlook causes watering in mouth
That melts and crackles under the tongue and dissolves
A forgetful evening. Home-bound passengers from local trains,
As they return, all in a hurry like with a puff of...
Grandmother
Drawing circles like a schoolgirl on the
blanket with her finger, she soon detects
black ants along the wall, and becomes a
traffic cop mad at disobedient
vehicles. With her white hair tangled in
neglect, she soon turns into a smiling
tyrant who tosses swear words like macro*
and bobok** at us all. She watches the
same...