Thursday, January 1, 2015


It all started with the hush hush opening
of a bloom while i was doing a flip-flop-flip
on whether to alight the next flight of stairs
that could reach you

Yet all you did was pour acid on the buds
and hearing your grumble that 'love can not kill
twice' was like being swept off my feet

by an invisible Tsunami, riding on the fizz
of fantasia; it was like being bombarded with
fifteen thousand watts of pulsating sound

and all the while watching you blandly, your
face bloated with summer green, your shoulders
draped with blues, and your hair
brushed with a tinge of blood

You sipped your Martini with the calm
of a mellowed autumn, and said, "I wish
we could drop the tittle-tattle on love and sex,
they just kill me!"


Amidst the fog
rising above the knoll of memory
the call of a warbler often
brings back the summer when

all that started: my fumble with words,
gasps of breath, burning beneath the shirt collar
and your cruel laughs; i believe it was clearly
a case of scarce supply of oxygen to my soul,

When you snapped the lifeline
of further approach, the roller coaster ride
slipped off its rails, and i was flung into the air,
i was detained somewhere between a virtual tunnel

and real vacuum, till i became conscious
of your vanishing into the mundane; all that remained
was a plunge into existence without the diatomic gas,
the essential pomposity of love.

New Year Tanka


turning prayer wheels
on the last day
of the year

a child's song
echoes from the mountains


the scientist sighs
at the sight of lifeless
lab animals--
which race can embrace
the gift of the Fuhrer?


within the folds
of a paper rose
i keep tracing
the bends and alleys
of our talk


can death
add one star
to the night -
mom's wooden owl
stares blankly


throwing pebbles
into the pond--
ripples grow
within waning ripples
of memory


i may hold
one full moon
between my fingers
but not the dreams
that slip beyond my view


a mild rain
as night ends
your words
plopping into the muteness
of leaves


you may burn
a hundred memories
i remain embalmed
in your self-seeking love
a helpless duck in an oil slick


the more
we drift apart
i feel the sea wind
the rustiness of memories


for coming late'
a mockingbird
exploring the broken nest


your nearness
as with a spring blaze
makes me dizzy--
even with a heat-suit
i fear the lava


without a wave
floats the moon--
towed to my dream
I've been sailing for ages

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