Outside is the traffic 2

I have
a complex inner war to place carefully between
my space and your embrace.

Also inside
is a poem beyond my day-to-day needs.

is a stampede, looking to compete.

the poem’s epigraphic,

is the traffic.


I could see beyond light

I was not even here.
Raw and pure fear, nature’s primal son,
I don’t think so, I’m not that one.

Ahead on the road,
At that heavy branch that fell in the storm
Last night and every night before that?

Not there, ahead, not the horizon
Farther, that’s just the Sun,
Those are more planets and stars.

I was feeling the heart of my gods.
Further, where it’s only dark,
There I was, where I wasn’t there.

Let me forget your face

Your kisses, on old pages
get smudged, washed away,
when the first tears edge
past my tale of every day.

The furniture in my head
turned rickety, gave away —
memories can’t sit or stay,
thoughts won’t go out to play.

You left but left behind
new shadows on my x-ray,
even in this wretched haze
I still can see your face.

The sly predator


The text

Perched on highrises, find
by the thick skin on the thick skin of its behind
that comes off when it needs
to breed, to feed,
to bleed the oily earth for its greed,
the animal that is our kind.

Be Skeptical

Sure and secure in this pure shallowness of yours,
Keeping notions, devotions and the “right” outlook,
Eager to please the trustees, of an ancient disease,
Please! Off your knees, the guarantees are no one’s to keep.
Take not my word that your herd is absurd, but do start
Ignoring the lores, just open your doors; and I
Can vouch that every pore will explore the magic
Around, that surrounds every sound, every trivia,
Leave the spurious, be curious and one big odd-ball.

Writing two zero one

Limericks were supposed to be fun,
But I couldn’t write, not even one
That I could call perfect,
I sit back and reflect,
If this poet’s journey is all done.