Short Landing Place Poems

I was placed in my boat of reed,
And placed in a river run smoothed.
I drifted past Moses’ landing place,
Nestled amongst the rushes,
Past Peter’s boat and fishing nets,
Past reformed basilicas and black minarets,
And factories of manufactured creeds and needs.
All, whose only purpose is to clean the streets,
Tattoo feet, and recycle old shoes and dirt.
I sailed, past them all,
Into the unknown of the ocean....

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When you release the 
words, your curled fingers 
burst into flame.

It was an ancient filth, 
a bird fighting in the mud- 
house of quote-unquote.

Someone navigated 
over the bald heads to find 
a landing place for a cuckoo.

Between real and fiction, 
you cannot write a hymn 
in praise of satan, called god.

I am done with the darkness 
all around, and rip open 
the wall to let in the jupiter.


Satish Verma...

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