On land we had stories of sea
And a sea swallowed them all
In brilliance of dredger’s lights
And men who go fishing in sea
As midnight’s poet would fish
Stories in dark of sea stomach.
Surprising detail
Young Borges leans over the pillow
To find there is no ultimate Borges.
Since there can’t be ultimate poem
Borges is always a detail to go into.
There is a sky in and above Borges
It is abstract & has surprising detail.
Old Borges died on August 24,1986
Which is surprising amount of detail.
Startled
Blue necklace left on a charred chair
Tells that Beauty was startled there’
—Alun Lewis, ‘Raiders’ Dawn’
Now here ,decision comes in play
Not seeing things in their entirety
Everything is fleeting with a noise
Inside time that passes efficiently
A cat-clock purring in a midnight
Cat moon extinguished in foliage.
A decision sits here in spider web.
It’s fleeting rain pearl is mutative
Charred chair seats the necklace-
A beauty startled there at its start.
Beauty ended with a burning light.
This plastic chair cannot sit erect.
Phrases
In phrases, in it’s unusual coming.
Houses feel feverish in foreheads
And a warm light bathes phrases.
Their grimness is hardly brow-knit
Both to be & not to be, reconciled
As there will be coming upon light.
This is fresh- peeled sunset voice.
As we understand in a little Larkin,
A brickwork astonished by coming.
So much lies in a power of spring.
(After Philip Larkin’s poem ‘Coming‘)
Macro situation
I see the daily event of the ants
Crossing highway of the antline
Inside a grout near swimming pool
With kids splashing feetin thuds.
What about a lonely security guy
Sitting on stool of round holes?
Of course, there is rock too, with
Hard -feeling textures by roses
Red roses are loved less by sun.
Only their own shadows outshine.
The women stretch their shadows
Roses are no less pretty by them.
The roses, the aunt’s and the ants
Form a morning’s macro situation.
A last count
On the 10th day, aunt is an absence
In a temporal abeyance by the river
Where her near and dear ones bath
In her absence flowing in water taps
Installed strategically on a riverside
Since much water has flown in river.
A tenth day of absence will be leap
Into eternal absence at a last count.
Butterflies
My own sit-up wakes up butterflies,
With Emily on the other side of river
Where we hope to meet after boat,
With our butterfly wings left behind.
We too have butterflies in stomach
The dead wings preserved in poem.
(Remembering poet Emily Dickinson)
Everything was fine
Irish poet Derek Mahon who reminded us that everything was going to be alright died on October 1 at the age of 78
St. Patrick drove the snakes into sea.
In Ireland, poets don’t dream snakes
But only planes falling on a country
And /or other deeper Freudian stuff.
As promised one Derek Mahon died
On October 1 & everything was fine.
Till date, there are no snakes in here.
Ireland shines like an emerald in sea.
There is a thaw
There is a thaw setting them free.
The old ride happy sledges down
Like they are horses pooping live.
The horses hardly laugh out loud
As in internet chat with strangers.
When the old slide down in fright,
Horses neigh a laughing out loud.
If the masters urge the horses on
With hot filthy abuses, they retort
By a spontaneous poop dropping.
In the deepest and whitest snows
Poop hurts warm like flesh wound.
Neutral hint
Skull and cross -bones are a still life
Painted as warnings on transformer
As reminder one could turn life still
If one touched roadside transformer.
The banana peel carelessly dropped
Is still life, a roadside memento mori
Just back from a still life temple god
Whose holy waters we had imbibed.
Banana peel is neutral hint to moron
A memento mori like skull/crossbones.
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