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(What is in a name?

- a lot, almost everything

except time.)

Inter alia

I care to admit

I like your hair

amorphous beehive

imploding

into a thousand

polaroid lilies

in the sun.

Long moments

turn themselves up

before the winds

living in the trees

cut loose winter

and a mischief

of metaphors.

What is your name?

2008

The solitary line

Euclid drew

with a dead twig

has one sad end

under my mute bed.

The other end

is under your feet

If I may say so

one side step away

(from the Euclidean line)

there is sun

and summer

of the origins.

And the tree

around the corner

has leaves of exactitude

and meanings

that are ripe ahead

of the season

falling

with mild bursts.

On the other side

is autumnal calm

in the citadel

under the siege

of bridesmaids.

Before the knot

tightens

around the rooster’s neck

there is time for

another round of applause.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­Drawing at this point

the only possible

line parallel to the first

the enemies sat down

for the feast.

( ______________ )

2007

Long past

mid day

the shore

is a slender

glistening arm

felt by

the white foamy

tongue

of perfect sea.

Mirror in hand

a dwarf moves

one foot at a time

among pilgrims

prophesying

the apocalypse.

There is no death

for the birds of winter.*

No cemeteries.

In the warm navel

of the sea

from a time before god

a wind

stitches perpetually

one moment

and the other

at precise ruptures.

From the lithe grove

of the afterglow

the dwarf

reappears and vanishes

with his crafts of

ancient voyages

crashing on the waves

in one sudden rush.

The procession of pilgrims, on reaching the sea, sings in unison, no epitaph is worth the dead, no buried ever remembers his name, or hers, the winds are blowing all the clouds away, over the lighthouse and the dusk, over the ships and the masts, the night of cicadas, the night of disquiet, is waiting like a pirate of pure lore, waiting for glory, at these hours waves upon waves, I call myself by my name.

2007

* I chanced to read this line among graffiti and bill boards at Fort Kochi, in December 2007, though the author of this line remains anonymous to me.

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