Sunday, July 28, 2013


Through the untouched, snow silent streets
Of a luckless half- absent- after-noon
Part- fractured like the creations of a million
Opulent eyes, greedily waiting to be undone,
With casual looks, hookers and virgins salute
The hot lipstick reddened on the cold sun
Where I, stepped out through the drifting
Frame, igniting the flames like every other man
Not really here- not really there, no where in fact,
Shimmers neon noised crowds reflecting windows,
They watch like caged animals- the angels-
Bestowing their miseries and their blessings,
Amongst the cheap cut price beer and dope 
Essences fades- and looks betray- we are not here,
Like You- they seem to say we do not exist,
Like words proven too difficult to capture
That impenetrable sense- language even fails-
To uncover a worthy, precise, fitting metaphor
From behind the blank walls with emptied eyes
Swarms, like blinded moths quickening the red light.

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Burning Bush

How it all came
To be. It was not simple
Easy to accurately describe
The disembodied words
Fraying in the white noise
Electrifying the medium’s ether
I imagined the awkward precursors
Irradiating their vitreous humour
Against the fading cold chloroform
Their minds condensing the pure
Essence of the spectrum- intra-to ultra,
The birches white speckling the dark
Bark lightly through the lab’s window,
How I imagined their hunched backs 
Turning that clumsily, silent, formless
World like those faithful Lumbricina
Churning the flimsy pink skin dry
Beneath the gravid black lands  
Lie the slumbering unconscious Gods
Aerating the layered dementia

Of an earth, too solid, too infinite
For their abstract clinical calculations.

So, no wonder they abandoned you
With Petri dish and formaldehyde
There would be novel miracles too
In a language they would decode
The binary system of their God
As incomprehensible and remote
As the bush that burned, too brightly.