the streets smell of coffee
and the burnt ends of last night’s cigarettes.
faces move past me like they’ve been sandpapered—
eyes dull, shoulders pulled up like bad weather.
the mailman walks slower,
the bartender pours heavier,
even the pigeons look nervous.
something’s in the air—
a weight you can’t see
but you feel it pressing your ribs.
I drink my beer,
pretend I’m above it,
but the truth is my chest is tight too.
whatever it is,
it’s leaking through the cracks.
and we’re all standing in it,
pretending it’s just another day.
How I used to care for this finely beautiful gate, once!
Couldn't ever see it rusty, dingy, dusty, dirty;
Creaking of this gate left me psychically in a dunce,
I sandpapered; cleansed; oiled; kept it gold-shiny and flirty...!
This old rusty gate now retells within many stories:
Stories of our union; innocent children-communion;
Stories of progress in all glorious territories;
Stories of rise and fall and separation and union...!
How death of dear ones leaves one's existence absurd and void!
The old rusty gate now revealed to my neighbors, common;
My sadness, emptiness, dankness, loneliness and schizoid,
And announced: though I was alive: R.I.P. with Brahman...!
I should, though late, renovate this old precious rusty gate,
Relish my memories till I live and rewrite my fate...!!!
27 June 2022
a tiny tip has been placed
where your nose used to be
your lips have been plumped
you have a practiced smile
you wear permanent rounded breasts
your skin has been sandpapered smooth
tightened to restore your youth
your original thoughts are memorized
someone writes the words you use
you want my heart but i'm sorry it's mine and it's real
can you see where that might pose a problem for you and me
sandpaper hearts
take away the roads
dig a hole
fill your moat
lifeless
gold
smooth texture from life
bleach the silver fom crosshair
eyes
the color of blanks
a string
of blue pearls
march along the plywood vein
tapping at this tired thing
tap-tap...tap-tap
singing produce =produce or starve
no time to act tired
count those aces... tight
another day-another race
don't make a mistake
tired thing snoring
o'er
sandpapered casket
tap-tap