Dialogue of walk

The sun  climbs a neighbor’s coconut
It is time for a  long dialogue of walk

Everything is so  clear and so well cut.
Neighbor ‘s  tiny  moonlight’s flowers

Had done nighttime duty of fragrance.
They are now withered smiles on road.

The parijata tree had shed its flowers
On the earth , their  feet up in the air.



We make  nightly metaphors from
A dog’s howl at a mystery shadow

Born in textures of sleepless night
As a deepthroat protest at a moon

A blue moon that had failed a blue
Due to indifference of a rain cloud

And a body’s yellow  fears in belly
Turning dog’s midnight  howl blue.


Where sea is ocean

Bengal bay shivers with the wind.
But Indian ocean strikes sky wall.

My ocean is my sea, a Bengal bay,
Men in it  being three dimensional.

When men go fishing in high seas
They cross the borders of the seas

To enter the high streets of ocean
Where fish fly in continental shelf.

At the horizon, sea is welded joint
With the blue vagueness of the sky.

That is where the sea turns ocean
And Bengal’s bay the Indian ocean.


Upper fog

He of the upper valley comes
Sometime to our upper story,
When snow is less, trees more.

I ask how snow-wheat grows
On trees and then sun comes
And there is water a-dripping.

In the upper valley tall pines
Stand as if dead always there,
To be green soon after noon.

It is how upper valley works,
In my upper story he tells me
In ways vague and temporary.

In the upper valley the trees
Eat snow-wheat for  a sheen
When all is eaten turn green.

He of upper valley is vague,
About all things in the world.
Upper fog makes him vague.


Fateful sea

These marigolds lie on the beach
Awaiting a fateful sea to pick up

In next wave and hurl them back.
They were meant to live for God

Somewhere over a stone phallus
In words repeated in a sanctum.

They might be meant to beautify
The dead as they lay on bamboo

Their sightless sights set on a sky.
They are meant to beautify death

And to worship God ,not to wave
Lazily to spring’s vagrant breeze.