far-gone

Turquoise cuspidate

things fall apart

the centre cannot hold

things

things

things

the rich restrain
of velvet dove wings
a soft steaming stream
trickling parch

like cherry fingertips
feathering kohl
lashes leap
rescuing warmed opals
the fire of a thousand consciousnesses


the trouble
of constrictions
of conflict
of certainty
conditioned caresses
compress
and

alike
we be,
far-gone

...baby.

Cccroon.

Art--"The Character of Mercy" by Carrie Ann Baade.

rHead.

Red coughs

dry decline

my mind a bee

bleeds

your hard, heavy, hundred desires.

Ours

Vivid shadows
dhol scattering
carnation reds
obscure umbras
trodden dry.

Heidi skips
tripping through wires
thief, friend
mouse
brave...

But,
possibilities of not
when rejections abound
and happinesses sell- a childhood past.

If you leave.
If you do not.

Are our lives
ours?

I am now awake.

Girl Swirl

Pound, rotate
Replay

Me in mentha earth
You up above

Two eagles
Our storms

Us

Comfortable
Softened slime
Combine

Salt watery beads
Surge

Mosquito symphonies
Whispering in red ears

Girl swirl

Trickles of black light
Where we collide

Evening skies
Sudden mounts
Sublime declines.

You:Me

Black storm in my blue teacup
your circles

stay, stand.

Orange T soldiers
running by and by
mi amour,
...you, must understand.


Rolling majestic
these many
many dapper
soft silk sands.

Silence within.
Silence without.

Your laughter:
fluttering words
across my lips

aflush, anew

Inanna.

Such is proclivity
...our.

Squint sp.

Fizz:
my life
a mind unsorted
dialectic pupils
question in squints
to point
to pin.

Trailing ants
I sweep
with
ten toe mysteries
palms --
these heels
secret, sudden sympathies.

Lemons in my sweet pudding
please.

There’s coffee between my teeth.

Concertos

15th August ‘09

Feeble morning glories clutch sunlight, their fuchsia bodies reverberating with songs of sun, the frenetic drumming of bee wings against lips that are velvet...free... puckering to the same energy when all is violent. I pass the maize fields of Rajouri, Poonch and these other never again but maybe villages. Peeping into the eyes of souls of the well sunned and oiled but spent gujjar people. I cross the rhythms and colours of the Chenab. Hear her mists breathe; I find spots of sunshine on the green fern cheeks of a million mountains. I refresh these aging, glassed eyes...my blindness rescinds.

And so are humans, tiny orbs of peculiar vegetations, sometimes in blossom other times in barren winter states. Our four seasons are never the same and so we search those

who might be in the same season as us, we fervently, tirelessly search even though we may have found. For perhaps, the human forest is never at ease.

15th June ‘08

Sarovar Sap

You pass fields, relinquish ground dreams of those you shall never meet and that which you will never be. I am the character and I am me. Search, strive, struggle, starve, steal...but smile, for that is what they know. They who read the notes of Being, tapping into the metallic truth which constructs the alphabet A-Z.

My God is in the reflection of everything. I sit by the sarovar to drink and be drunk, to be one and nil, swallowed, humbled, forgiven, blessed...Do I need the affirmation?
In the deep core, in circles of reason that float to me but are nibbled by mental oranges that swim like fast trains and many brown buses diagonal to my reason. The darkness is heavy, silvery and sweet. The sap of my God, my soul calls.

Feb’ 08

My eyes are notebooks and my tongue a palette, the brush that is my mind knows not whither to turn...or to turn at all. So much angst, so little time and before the memories fade all three clutch and pause.

The firs

The firs are silent tonight,
like us
I imagine.

Awash:
pink heels
purging silent stone fountains;

Laden:
crimson roses
like cheeks of shattered children
innocence in tact--
subtly.

I advance,
you are still.

It is raining--
I sense a revelation
pending
for it is written.

But,
my windows dry
I touch the greys
address letters
to alphabets;
then think
where are you?
why not you?

These firs
scent
the violence
of vague virtues.


Ablur:Me.

Tomorrow i will find
to step in
a puddle of fir blood.

Suha Dupatta

Kasooran da kalaja
kad ke sutteya
sapne badal ditte
phul gayi apna bhes
apni phasa
...apna saccha Padshah

Phula devangi
parchaaiyan mere angaan di
hassa teyis saalan da
oh jungnu-aan di baraatan nu
...haule haule
mitaa devangi
nikki nikki yaadan nu

Par dass...meeteya,
eho vargi hariyaali kiven devega?
eh mera bachpaan
eh mere apne
onna diyan aahatan ...

Bass...
Hun mere kol tera ik
...suha dupatta

Zindagi- -
babulaan da khet.

my Own

Almond creases restore
Fate
some Right lines
Left to Karam
my mountains lift--
transcendent
Morning Mists gently cradle
transient
sights of Self.


Vir’s supple petals
a molten white;
these glimpses
radiating spirals of yolk
so rich
unbroken...


They
now scent Ganesha’s
clay-crystal limbs,
the blessing
of Nanak,
His hymns ,
wrapped in kesari green
Asa, Jap, Sukh, Rehraas, Sohila


My faith?
my Own.

Immaculate, my ceramics

Opium lava

this Stalk

versatile sin-sap:

resist;

My ceramics

Brick Burnt

system specious

but

shanti-hi

.Anhad Shinjini.

Where tigers run free-1

Reader, here's a first from a series I intend to write this week 'Postcards from the future'. These pieces are not held by grammar, just time and turmoil and such.

Stripes running down my waist you see tigers running free some system unsound wild true passionate marks by fingers that held those which emerged that grew roots within a hull so flexible so alive it bled a sea of mercurial blood through births both ends struggling out of each other a last attempt at separation such was the invalid individuality like suns rising from flat watery bosoms wetting the mother and drying to a perfect orange then subsiding to black like the stripes on a tiger the kind you trace on me running your finger racing your eye pitying my width and all it held of you and I contend like I always have these are branches that once bore leaves to green yellow deaths bordering a trunk old so old she wept as each fell to a puddle conserved by her to soften the fall cradles of lust spent but that’s another story and this is me thirty years down- Meera.

Soda mind

Billie’s malt rasp
key written
we sing;
Brown Calvin
some live sonic metal
for
Nina now flying me
to the moon
and there--

on my mind

blues on wallpapers imperial
gold candles
sitting in sequins pretty
wax tempts
this true, true summer heat...

Bamboo songs
erupt
flushing feathered flurries.

Taffeta lying black on
my sometimes silver
travelled, very travelled
feet.

My voice, faraway
me, asking for no sugar
no salt either
crisp soda lemon-aid.

I sit in couches plush
smiling inwardly at memory slush
purple blue green
sweet sympathies.

While,
up above--
champa ringlets
squirrels explore
untiringly.

My mind a bugayal,
me-here.

Vivipary

Born of division
between recesses
coiling autonomic
Universe to one
One.

.Unborn undone Young ‘un

Of pleasures divine
patient,
Your systems recline.

.Grow

Answer now
Do we do?
Do we not?
Is it us?
Them then...
no, not.

.Contract
Being me
The scheme of you
All reasons- reticule

.Expel

By the edge of my teeth
soft certain decline
contain these commotions
I am off .
I am off.

Another time.

Some abnormal

I heard before I saw--
the dry hard beat of a foot
on a paddle;
abrupt thuds
sudden glides
some cotton strings even,
all music to the penitent’s old brow.


His smile-
peptised between a million bitter wrinkles
eyes that were once part-sky
his finger,
pointing to a green door
cream leaf atop a cheap pastry green.


We were oblivious
to the smell of
urines that were not different,
not special even...
Spread by the growl of a repainted cinni
standing sullen,
standing straight.


Remembering, I followed.


The intemperate thuds continued
while I met
around tables
groups of five
sometimes six
children;
perhaps people
...no, children.
Each,
struggling to Be.
Their tiny pencil feats celebrated
paranoiacally by Us.


And then I was held
between the saucer sized circles
of singularly functional
irradiate eyes...
Some smiles like special rivers
ran across irregular pebble like laughing teeth
so very:
Softly.
Softly.
Softly.


But for the thuds.


Then we descended
to the groans of that wooden machine
where he sat bent over
orange white threads
his short foot hitting
time and again
the iron paddle;
Never looking up.
Never stopping.
The sun catching for him
instead,
sparkling dribble.


And I looked away.
Walked back to where I came from.


Visual traffic –
men in suits
children on cycles
women with umbrellas
a flurry of school uniforms
people talking
on my old roads;
...Some abnormal.

Sweet summer recalls

Pink fem bubbles softly fall

on a white basin newly washed;

A train of ants chugs by

while the stand-gecko meditates

tongue wetting split eye

then brow.

Red cheeked bulbuls swallow powder puffs,

sneezing pretty purple calls

A red earth dove dips her breast

into a shallow pool

Under cool muddy green-yellowing palms.

Kitty’s den is quiet,

but till Fall.

Pink pentases now yawn

catching passing poplar rays...

While little Thomases peep

between cane walls

I smile from

Within

and

You see...

These sweet,

sweet summer recalls.

To to to to to to to to

Intuitions steal sudden simplicities

of broken cups, salty teas

telling stories

while

all maps still lead

to dots across seven disjointed

very blue green

seas.

Greece my heart

Strum this bow

Please.

Capture

a blue bottled tiny piece of soul

soul to sand

sand to time

time to grain

grain to grain

to my sugars

to be

to to to to to to to.

C

Dog, I miss Thee.

And I hope they're cool wherever it is you might Be.
And yeah, I see I see--
But it's Hard to Kaur
Without you,
C.

.Sanitize.

Alone in Kyoto

again

dead dry white tablet floatin’

somewhere

in there.

Swallowin’ to serum

.Sanitize.

Floatin’ high

like some kind of Boudin cloud

breaking blue bread

sparklin’ shy shadows

swimrises are yellow

creamflies into the black black wet wet windy windy night

lemon disco demons

glare.

Wipin’ to see

.Sanitize.

And so the grasses green

hmm, it could be a Y

but it’s a Z.

Banaras, the passing away

My anklebells send silver shivers, multiplying the light from the many lamps I sell. Sita, see.

From the corner of my eye she watches the orange wood man awake, new births..old deaths. He is pushed back into the discomfort of a camphor wood cage, doused in cheap oils, scented with sandalwood...


afire
dream pyre
this strange,
strange piety.


..The tiny orange flames now dangerously close to a mud pink, once frilled frock...and so it is everyday. Sita says.

:I swallow the song, your offerings, the thousand vibrations from your invisible bells... I swallow You and Yours:

Saahab, my little son jumping from one boat to the next. Pausing. Breathing. I feel the heat from his aluminium kettle...my womb burns, sears..steaming my eyes. Rapere.

I touch the silence of incense smoke patterns.. tracing soft purple journeys to these brass eyes of fire now lighting the invalid's face, and yet

I sit
I sit
I sit
I sit
I sit
I sit
I sit...

Banaras...the passing away.

Fire to my bosom, aarti to my soul... I am now that little marigold lamp


Sita, she burnt my dry cotton wick from the pod Ameet picked under a different summer sun... his wet black unschooled feet bare. And here, on Azhar's roof, was I twisted... sometimes seven and sometimes five times. My leaf urn, he who is black dried under feet that rustled in a faraway forest never knowing what ghee what jal would wet what his sole dried.

...from Becka's hand I am floating now in waters lit...

boil...purge.. delight


I am writing, not reflecting and you maai, have left..?

Engulfed in incense and sweet butter fires, my tiny emerald dancing while a certain star above watches my face fall, fall into dark marigold depths, befriending the orange man's gray ashes and so we are all

Consumed.
Consumed.


The gnats stop and I, and I

I sit
I sit
I sit...

Such Lies

When the water you drink fills your eyes
and the satin that is your tongue begins to testify--
large deserts bathed in sunny doubts
touch upon this palm
as Karma Rivulets expand...

Witness,
certain, quick decline
Notice,
that orange fires burn to black
and that face isn’t Him
why live a lie..?
I see your Sigh and hear your Smile.

You think i know
but i dont
and so
I do,
Lie.

Hum.

Pink clouds of red

and I cannot see

I cannot see

must not see;

…must not see.

Pure shores

callin’

comin’

grievin’

believin’

lovin’

learnin’

bein’

seein’

Yeah—seein’.

And so it goes

Oceans beat on in:

wash my salt

sugar me pure

my Boudin skies beckon

shake my hull

to emerald

Suck out o’ the O-skull

burn brow

beat

sing

scream...

Hum.

Hum.

Hum.

Some little things take so long to forget

so long

so long

…so, very long.

Soul Fish

Smoke to sigh
slow scar sublime, sublime;

This wax warmth
shuts eyes...

Yellow red is sun soaked slumber;

Spent me.
Spent you.

And between
one sun
a sudden, certain sky
stars, all alive
half a moon, even.

One latitude lower--

and
We sink.