Station – Part II (Springtime)

#32 Station – Part II (Springtime)

Listen to the wheels,
spring is rolling over you and your madness.
A sign of changing shoulders
while shadows change trajectories
of suspended miracles.
Often I miss my own,
station and other particulars,
stay safe, I know you can,
return with every spring, take
my feet through the corn and the field.
I love every road I walk with you.

Station - Part I

#31 Station – Part I

Spare me your station,
its blue and yellow stripes.
I hear your tracks, taking you back,
where you had started. Train me,
to look straight into the darkness,
timid myopic vision soft around my existence.
Queue up my infirmities, quiz me
through your blades, I change my buttons
and stand closer than a year.

Different story

#30 Different story

My towel, it hangs from a certain feeling,
we share it, our nights got swapped.

Villages far beyond lights, cities have to offer,
we stayed back, away from railway tracks
that lead you back. Swollen are my eye lids,
I look at you forever, soft in the mellow of
constant arpeggio of nylon. Thousand vessels
of mere happiness floated through our smiles
as we crept towards our sleeping bodies,
waiting for our lips to discover themselves
between tongues. Tell my story to your hands,
treat me with disbelief.

Beg to differ

#29 Beg to differ

Leave me here, did I beg to differ? Once you
get that you don’t need this. Superficial victim
of consequences scattered. The corridor moans
as I turn, there’s no sign of light. Flight beyond
streaks of arrogance, I break into melodies of
spring of a birdless sky. Click on my nerve,
a muscle twitch, there you go, there’s life.
Stay away from darkness, leave me here,
we don’t die multiple afternoons.

Sweet doldrums

#28 Sweet doldrums

Emotions and words repeat themselves as
satellites cross my point of view. Believe me,
I’m blinded. I am unable to see you or that
portion of your heart where I’m supposed to
belong. The sweet doldrums, the ethereal bliss
of a phenomenal loneliness, windows choose to
shut themselves. In perfect corners of every
circle, I envisaged that form, took a step backward
and walked the regular.

My own people

#27 My own people

Longer than my branches I see the moments fly,
I watch my own people. Often sunsteps break
the screeching black, they turn away from light.
My people, they choose shades of human,
I don’t know any. Every time they hear my breeze,
they hide another truth, drifting through those
million fading smiles. I guess, my own people,
no longer belong anywhere but the cobwebs,
spun into the spirit of the unfamiliar.

Roots

March 5, 2012

#26 Roots

My roots have dried and breathing
no longer seems easy. I’m sleeping in corners
of various eyes which forests mistake
for cunning lights, fireflies. The height makes
me forget your past; I’m not as high as you
think I should be. Remarkable, I remember
your jawline, my fingers closer to the edge.
My roots are fading beyond snow and further.