Dreams, Diaries of Loss

That is what they are

always the remembering

the thinking in space

but here you probably have something

I mean the day’s done dead and all that

still, the moon comes to weep on your shoulder

you know this gives comfort

this remembering

picking up your umbrella ready to leave in the rain

you know these tears you cannot weep are not yours

drink a glass of water

pick up your umbrella and go into the rain

the road the ride everything you take with you in the backseat of the autorickshaw

going into the night that melts like ink in these streets

in your mind

is the way things work

this giving away that you know you live for

the gathering the going.

 

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

Cloud And Sky

and below that blue

and then the pale yellow sunlight

then red like fire

like a furnace

and finally the world

this is my morning

how the day is so silent

like someone sleeping

and I look and wait

for it to wake

some giant creature

of air

is it desire

that burns and cools

is it all in my mind

I wonder

and then

I think of death

closest of companions

and then the world slowly wakes

the windows open

and I smile.

Ghosts

Everyone is a ghost here.

Three ghosts exit a bar

and walk across the street.

It’s also a strange morning

when children go cart-wheeling

to school.

And in these narrow lanes

where I still hear bicycle

bells…

But never mind all that.

It’s the ghosts I was speaking of.

And the ghost city on the move.

See how one rushes

to the other as he gets crushed

by a train.

When I die, they can

kick my body into

a garbage dump.

The dogs may eat me

if they care.

 

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