Now that the entire world
has retreated to a thaw
now that from a rooftop
I see a raw galaxy dangling
from the beak of a bird
now that the earth
is a great rippling mantle
like a set of loose hair in a golden head
now that the entire world
as soft and pliable as moist leaf of tobacco
now that the planet is flotsam
drifting in the viscous current of sensation
now
we can sleep
in its academy of colors
now
we immerse our heads
in the surrounding cradling
dream
peeling off the whiteness
of stream
of consciousness
washing it
with the sterile lore
of silence
preserving its restlessness
in the hermetic jar
of time
feeding it the shadow
of leaves
the crumbs of wind
that I find
warming it
with the thick songs
of essence
talking to it
with the vowels
of night and day
loving it
despite
the shapeless ache
it leaves in my
heart
I saw a yellow house
a pillow
and a mother
that would not explain
the wind carried
the stars
like debris
my tongue’s tip
did not catch any
how the sadness
clings onto
the rustle of a leaf
I could describe
with lines and perspectives
the memory that
brought me here
beyond that memory
empty flashes of shadows
and hungry panthers of light
I saw
my hand
touch the world
like a
mirror
reflecting
a dance.
Our current knowledge
will be clear
to be no more
than a droplet
within an immeasurable
ocean of unknowingness –
we pretend on this earth
to know more than we
know not
we dispel mystery
because we have
a few theories
and laws of Nature
as a poet I seek
that vaster sphere
of Nature Unknown
I do not call it
divine
but because of its
opulent mystery,
I deem it
sacred.
It was not yet summer
when the light dissolved
absolutely over my tongue
I had to return to the past
as if digging
a ruthless hole in my skin
my veins my bones my sky
will the black worm
eat consume digest
reinvent me?
death is the smoke
we breathe in
to unfold like a cluster
of manifestation
passively
the dream
reposes inside the
shell of reality
in one drop
of philosophy
the solitude
is assuaged
but the aperture
the encounter
the expanse
available only
through the pristine
ache of mystery
and its pilgrimage
found in an alighting
morsel of
beauty.
The standstill motion
of the substance
around us
in a flicker
the wood is a infant body
laying on the arm
of a ray of sun
the hourglass has
a plan to move
the shadows
the incense is dead
reeking like a
flame of pus
the instant sails
through all the events
carried by the wind of memory
with a transparent dress
a ghostly rain
is expected to sweep
up the remains
the fragments
in an untitled and random quest
Don’t know how to drive.
Can’t even park
into huge chasms
of disquietude.
How can I comb
the hair of my
marble personality
under
the incredible wobble
of the universal flux –
my feet are spaghetti
and the air around
one gigantic block
of solid
impossibility.
I can’t breathe,
my incomplete dreams
have begun unfurling
in an inexplicable atmosphere
of suffering.
I’m in transit
seeking still
the passage
between skin
and universe
the boundaries
have begun to turn
into long
horizons of
coiling water
soon, I gather,
life and death
will collide
in one
tidal splash
of beauty
and I shall
stop
moving
and lay my head
on the meaning
of grass.
Half
the sky
in my laugh
shattered
into myriad
flakes
of clustering
snow
the white
concentrations
like palpitations
of the cloud
coming from
a vaguely symphonic
summit
where they touch
and perish
my drops
of comic
hours
I am a cosmic
view
behind the windows
longing
the cold
touch of something
external
banging
my head
against
rock hard
reality
my bottles
of beer are
empty
and
my mind
full of
quack
unattainable
unreachable
undefinable
unutterable
unknowable
unrealistic
Buddhahood
the rain droplets
on the window pane
are particularly
quiet
alas.
