11 243 Meters, Purple Mediterranean
The airplane wings draw new summer fragrances
in the fogs they’re expected by tomorrow's smiles
like a dawn or maybe a dusk
with a calm, lazy eyes the day
can witness the providence through all the blue truths
the winds lose their hearing with the speed of a fatal...
THE PARTY
Such a mix
at her party—
one worshiped
his own genius.
another was too flippant.
a third was
a freethinker,
a fourth, a savant.
The combination
could only be uncomfortable.
And throw in a hypocrite.
a born pessimist,
the usual boorish academics,
and even the weather
could not settle
on rain or sunshine.
Maybe
the party-giver
was asking too much,
relied on diversity
as a crutch.
ended with discordance...
Word…
Word is Brahman
It emerges from
Hiranyagarbh
And wanders in the ether
Man’s heart vibrates
He hears its rapturous melody
And sways in ecstasy
And is lost in the sacred silence.
The other day…
The predator pounces upon the word
And preserves the kill
A dictionary is compiled
It hardly objects
But, is it at ease?
Lexicons continue multiplying
And then, words…words…words…
Words sans soul
Across...
Apiary
My friend Sharon raises bees.
In her veil she cranks the handle
of the silver bee smoker
calming the hives.
Bearding, swarming
in the intimate harmony
in which nectar becomes honey
or beeswax candles for any altar.
Scouts return with tales of pollen.
The gilet jaunes
swirl around the point Zero
buzzing with anger at the money
the rich will spend
to...
Ode to Muezzins
Muezzins used to climb the minaret to make the call to prayer…
(after Stefan Kaegi)
Oh to be on call five times daily
and feat days
ready to roll
cocksure in your three-balled
alabaster minaret outpost
honeyed and hyssoped throat
nose to the windscreen
positioned just so
between your faith
and a vintage Shure 55SW anodyne mic
an array...
Masscult
Elation about well-timed ascendancy
has a certain piquancy. It extends to
those not affiliated to it. When *M C
Sher’s flowing tongue capsules his
long haul his happiness is mine, tap-
ping into frozen areas of my campaign.
In rooting for this Gully Boy I begin
to rekindle my abandoned side.
*Siddhant Chaturvedi in Gully Boy, breakout...
On the Crossroads
O’ father,
hold my fingers in your firm grip
and help me cross the road.
Suspicion
I’ve burnt myself half, fortuitously.
And deliberately, left the rest unburned.
Bike Accident
Helmet transforms into a skull.
The road runs as usual.
Insomnia
Night burns into an ashtray.
I fly to you with the wings of ashes.
Paradise
lonely feet on a subway train
at half past midnight
she misses paradise
where every day she would
collect a pocket full of shells
why not give her home away
for another trip to the coastline without a name
our lady train rider flashes back to the nights
where she would stumble drunkenly with
another girl who split...
Language
this noise binds us in peculiar ways
as if it knows the frequency
at which we resonate
I can predict the weather
by the lilt in your voice and you
can pinpoint my location
by the clamor on the streets.
evening is when the suburb
breaks down into episodes,
but all I can think of is the time...
Along the River
We point out the different birds to one another.
Like teenage boys showing off their knowledge of astronomy.
Find goldfinches and cedar waxwings in the trees along the river,
tiny redpolls and grosbeaks chasing gnats down below.
In the water, cormorants lurk, wings spread like vultures
night-herons stalk lumbering carp in slow...