Pencil’s memory

It was not this , nor even that
Says the triangle of envelope

Surrounding pencil’s memory.
Triangle tapers to a life’s death

They are our gorgeous things
From the triangle petering off.

Body is our triangle, not ‘this”
But the poet’s closing triangle.

(remembering Emily Dickinson’s envelope poem “It was not Death ,for I stood up..” that seems to adopt a Hindu way of arriving at truth by “Not this,Not this”-a process of elimination)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s