Mother's day

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Through a half remembered dream...

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Cosmic Chill Scenes

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Like the brink of
A strange little whirlpool
Where consent is
A thin blurred line between pillows
Like two clouds merging
And you couldn't tell
The grey a p a r t.
You couldn't know
Which one of us
Were the darker
Shade of grey.

[Excerpt]

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No better place to sit that I can think of.

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to time,

we belong;

And to time
We'd write
odes;
Letters about
The end
Of the world!
Short as
Three word promises,
I
o
n
g
as
An aeon and
A moment,
When you'd
Still be the traveller
And I,
The travelled.

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मिथ्या

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A village eaten by crows

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Reunion

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The Earth deepens
It's marshy womb
The woods decay,
And dead fruits fall;
Our limbs like licorice
Swinging in the wings,
Their tips, nipping at
The fabric of sheer life!
And we'd wrap them
Like ropes,
Around our hopeless selves,
Weeded in, weeding out.
The nights are ours,
Days, we've never owned,
Yet, seldom, when
Meteors shower
And the Earth drenches
In starbath,
Your eyes would
Still be looking into mine,
And mine
Into the constellations
In yours.

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