Words

I imagine

what they

look like

in my mind

are they red black

is my mind

is it wet

is it like a mouth

words are all

I have

I tell myself

in my cave

I pave

my way out

with words

in the morning

I sing with the birds

so musical

in the sky

and with the clouds

I fly

to this

quiet place

where there

is no sound

and the world

looks so round

so beautiful

so delightful

so full

of enchantment

words make me forget

this life on rent.

 

The above poem is from my third book The Branches (2015).

If You Are So Buoyant

you’re not going to write a good poem

I tell myself

let’s see

I answer

typing with two fingers

you always do that

I tell myself

and I see the sun

above the ocean

in my mind

the orange brightness burning

like no other colour

the water so beautiful

in small sweet curves of transparency

my heart grows joyous

like the moon shining

in the dark

and I feel so happy

are you not like the deer then

I ask myself

silently watching

the world

and I wait and listen

while the sparrows chirp

outside my window

and a train goes gliding by

so silently

like a ghost skating

in the morning air

and I type with two fingers.

 

The above poem is from my third book The Branches (2015).

Lines

have appeared

out of nowhere.

A lion’s cave

lies quiet

under the earth.

There are two skies

skiing with the clouds.

The mind multiplies,

breaks down,

goes to seed,

which the lion eats.

Have you heard

his latest song?

It’s about a sea green giraffe

dancing in his pond.

 

The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).

Hurriedly,

the poem

went out

into the street

even before it began.

 

The poem stretched its legs

and walked.

 

Soon, it had to

stop for breath.

 

Tired now, it wanted

to go back home,

but had forgotten

the way.

 

So the poem dragged itself

to a nearby tea seller

and sipping from

a tiny glass,

started singing:

 

Golden tea I really like. 

Steaming, golden tea.

 

The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).

Now It’s Like This

I look at my face

in the mirror

and it’s a waste

what is the world like

just sunlight and green

and grey and blue

and white

and me

how I feel

so many buildings

I tell you

just so many

what a knot

O by the way

when they fall backwards

what a tumble

they make

how you go

through air

straight outside

and then once again

inside this jumble

see my hands

my fingers

how the index

and middle one

tremble

see this rain

in the morning

this silence this day

my ashtray

my shoes and my socks

inside them

my black shorts

hanging from a hook

so lifeless

the chugging train outside

blows the sky apart

I see the light blue struck with silver

shimmering like water flowing

and then I find myself in this boat

beginning to float

travelling to new places

that play

with the barriers of my mind

untying anything

in a bind

of those things

I now sing

ding a ling a ling.

My Mind

is such

it is barely there

go to the sky

I tell it

and there it stays

days

on some cloud

then back it is here today

with the rain

and the silver train

isn’t it beautiful

I ask myself

the buildings

and there

across the spread

of the city

in the morning

through the myriad maze

of windows

the colours of whites pinks and blues

all standing in a wide semi-circle

making me think of the sea

through the trees

the birds chirping

flying in flocks or singly

in the sky

the people

in the still empty streets

through my house

through the Coleridge biography

I finished

before breakfast

through the newspaper

I read after that

through all that mad horror assailing

through my bath

and finally through the words

of this poem

my mind has come back

to me.

 

The above poem is from my third collection The Branches (2015).