A HANDFUL OF LEMON GRASS

 

If lemon grass. of all grasses
Is splendid and lustrous, by which a sensitive damsel fly
Ponders about the tender day
And the passage of time
And  from behind the bench a handful of jasmine flowers
Slowly spread their sweetness in the wind
Longing to touch, to see, to converse
To the whiff of strange aromas that pass by
And the thief who would like to enter the gates
Looks for a sufficient alibi
There were always walls to be scaled
And two agile deer stood by gazing across a fence
And how can things get to a pass
How can tendrils be drawn to the gourd vine
And the yellow flowers of bitter gourd
Bear fruit
How can a robin dance about on the floor
And its foot marks make patterns
That go beyond the marks of a single shoe
Thrown at the past
How can eleven be time enough?
The man who walks around the garden murmurs something to the air
A crow pleads guilty
For having taken to flight around an amaltas tree
In the kettle, the water boils
And somebody calls for tea
The voices from the underbrush
Move towards a cricket that keeps on playing out
Shrilly about  the unseen.

Is there a way for the shrimp in the water
A way to meet another
Is there a way they could touch with their long hands
Can the water rise up sprout
Can the circles of many years be loostened
And the timber play its tune?

One jumps up in hope
Tries to clasp a handful of grass
And little flowers for tea-
And calls out-
Is there a way out of here?
A tune to step by.
A bottle of rice beer
Piece of coconut
But one is assured
That there is some road that goes past the gate
And a loud flower blooming in the nest of an eagle
Brought there from thorny bushes
And blushing, while remembering.

mob.09427118034

THE CIGARRETTE TRAVELS WITH THE SMOKE

If you travel so, if you want a cigarette  that u wanna smoke

If on the verandah there is sweet smoke and some confusion

How can we enter? and if onstage

There is some way out to the man and woman who had wandered in

Who wanted some moisture and some warmth

Some softness and hardness

Some love to give, some to take

How then can it be done?

How can the leaves of a tree be thrown and taken

Veins open and with some chuna ?

How can one get back to the rhythm, how can that smile be seized?

One wanders between past and the present

For the right moment

But it eludes one

Is there a pyramid of energy

Sprouting between the thighs

A moist cloisture

Where we could huddle in?

Is there a tree trunk with which

The seesaw can be built

Are there the strange lullabies that lovers can sing to each other

And the cartilage of your ear that i would like to chew sweetly

The tumbling hair in which my pigeon has found its nest

And the circulation of a kites wings

That draw out nectar from the moon

And the sparkle 

From the sun that sprinkles sweat on our foreheads

And that stream that starts flowing from beneath your chest

The drums that beat at the many points of your body

The craving that went out and returned without any avail-

Maybe there is something that eludes the touch

A f/airy dream that flies away

In broad daylight. 

How can a conversation be made

How can a lead be taken? 

One cannot cross the bridge

Since it shifts its place ever so often

Where can it be parked

Where from does this siren sound?

How can a lighted cigarette move beyond silence

Are we too weary of our dreams?