Lines More Lunatic Than the Sun 1-3

Lines more lunatic than the sun – 1 . making my friendship with the water-pigeon does not mean that i’ve acknowledged all devotion of the land-lotuses to river without putting any note of dissent i’m still plunging my face into the heart of black-soil white is my thirst in clouds sometimes I wish to exchange the headlights of my flesh and blood with a ocean and put my palms together with regards to say to my all time-cheerful chest-pocket oh master let the age of my shadows be not more vivacious than the flower-bed after marriage and without the help of any civic key let the drinking-bowl of an wish-baul walks as it wishes along my lips Lines more lunatic than the sun – 2 I offer so much love to the orioles after then some defeats on the upper-level of the pea-leaves have gathered somehow then, the juvenescent white esculent fruit that has a conch-shell shape or the restless thunder no one agrees to take the onus of maintaining my feeding and clothing and sheltering on some compulsion I run to a grammar produced by the water it is her indulgence with which I install forest in the mausoleum of the plural noun install blending of sounds and compounding of words and on reaching to the realisation of liberalism I install a notun-bouthan also I get pain very much on observing the memory of the bicycle to the laugher and weeping reserved for me only why… without taking my permission… she sends such an apprentice in the hands of whose a-c machine there is no fire-work at all Lines more lunatic than the sun – 3 just in the middle of the bad luck I cultivate some more boutique print in the accident-prone foot of the kadam-tree I deploy a special correspondent of my own putting my affidavit to the silk-worm with myself I’m going to start bihu-dance in the juhu-beach Solo comes to mind that date…i don’t remember.. when together in the bus-stand you and me we were both speechless to your that silence was offered my bread and butter then in your those wide eyelids for a moment wasn’t put the shadow of any handkerchief made of clouds after then the epic of the mice started like the creeper and the tree the servant with the maid-servant in that enlarging fire the cloud was burnt the water too from the tooth-ache there took birth the nail-polish the hawai chappal my FM