Thursday, October 27, 2011

The curtains in the study
are yellow and orange now
Blue ones are gone with
the rainy months

I have preserved your
tooth brush and
the red pencil.

I don't miss you any longer
But oh ! yes
I do sometimes
miss your missing me

Fumes of charcoal smoke
fill the barren
the arid soul
Naked under winter mist
A vast expanse of grass-less land
between love and the love-less

Nothing - A dull something
tip-toes over the Sunday brunches

through library afernoons
and red wine suppers
And cities fade into
green marshlands
And rainy hills breed
Violet flowers

A mirrored room where
they dance and sing
Perfumed women and
their men
and their children
and grandchildren pink
Circles and cubes glittering

Black water gurgles through
open drains. Imagine
what would happen
if I fell
fell deep and vanished

Sunday, October 23, 2011

A ladybird crawls
over the dazzling fluorescence
The TV

He loathes sleep
cause that implies a waking
and a day

The night is safe
and this sofa red
Street lights sleepless


just awake
waiting for tea

behind his eyes
chinese ink blots through
moist paper

he can hear
the roaring sea

Sunday, October 9, 2011

The city lay tired
flaccid after a long
You roll to
the other end
of the bed

I am not sleeping
I  am not weeping

Your smoke
reach the

Your rain aint me