We fall back into old routines With the same affection and uncertainty. Forgetful, Distracted by the lure of love; Behind our eyes, A dozen unanswered questions.
Oblong and oolong Orange leaves Whither in winter’s wake.
Speak them into existence And they will haunt the air. Ghouls or goals? Your tongue is a sharp thing, A pointed wand, and All words are magic, So think before you speak.
Pylons, The honeybees of a developing city Over flowerbeds and bike racks Making way for city plots and Parking lots, and 40 storeys– Tales tales Which wake us in the Early morning Cracked concrete and reversal beeps. Playgrounds removed And replaced, Children displaced, Our rent rising As old homes fall.
A wife by now Someone’s by now Someone by now A life by now Something by now Somewhere by now. If not now, what now? –notes on existential dread
Two nights ago I looked through a telescope at Saturn, Jupiter and the Moon, And was horrified. My mom laughed on the phone as I Recanted the story. “How small and insignificant we are. I’m an ant to the Universe.” I awake from a bizarre space dream to a girl crying on my doorstep, her…
Early mornings, Late nights, Long days And Short episodes of love.
Full Moon, Full bloom, Today I am one year older.
The birds begin chirping at 4 The sun rises at 5 Though, on a Satutday Our city sleeps until noon. So, the birds go unheard, The sun waits, unnoticed.
Why live in fear, When you can live in faith?