In some unconventionally cold evenings
We ignite the chopped logs and wrap ourselves with warm flashes,
The smoke keeps us awake.
Your eyes teased by the seductions
of bitter grey fire-fogs
Look at me.
See me.
Arrest me grazing your marie golds floating in rivers of night.
Smiling partly because you like me
chew the inciting petals in hasty passion
Sad perhaps because
you know it is killing you
tickling your tragedies. The roots are moist, but your lips are dry.
Stories no more lick your uncultured tongue
Poems don’t rub noses on your throat anymore.
Only scratch Remains.
In such scratch, secluded words in your soils
See that above earth, climate is Harsh, rain town is distant,
stones won’t let your delicate ankles travel in peace. I don’t love you: no i dread you.
All that can come with you:
expectations that things will be as it is or better shall the gardens bloom after forever
relations that will make me an owner or you a possession which
i will guard as if it is the most precious gem.
A gem loses its lustre when locked in closets under surveillance. I don’t like that someday you will see you never liked me too. I am scarce any good you hope me of, the miracles in me loiter to forget the way out.
But candles of love
take night long to melt and to flow:
whole night flames of desire shiver and make shadows on my wall search slender dark desirable body.
Your Shadow is nude, only it wears some shapes,
like a black river
falling from your head reaching the curvy lands of your slanting waist,
like twin-mountains shaking heavily
when my fingers capture your pride,
your shadows have no name, no face no identity yet my walls,
In some unseen corner whisper feebly:
She is the one, she is the all.
I want to cultivate green grass in such dark valleys where
A channel of untouched stories hide
An unsaid land of bliss invites me through the concealed naval below the storms.
Sometimes i think of you. When i am hungry and the nights are deprived
I think of you and scold you for carelessly missing your meals.
i have found in you near the pond
Your body which is a home to many birds. Day long these birds fly unbounded
and at nights come and hide in the nests that your eyelids lock.
When you starve and punish your flesh
my sparrows die in with you. I cy for their decay and only hope that one day
When your forests shall not burn
but dance with winds
The cuckoo inside you shall lick a tune
It shall have a song only the silent devils ought hearken.
