"I can stop whenever I want," I thought.

Days pass on in a blink or two, nights even lesser
Sometimes they linger to catch their breath
while the moon sails like a leaking, exhausted raft—
forever rowing, never moving— in a silent sea
And even if I could grab hold of the sky
and spin her till a peachy blush lit up her face
what good would it do to this melancholy land?

When a grief-stricken snake banged at my door, one stormy night,
I let him in for his toothless, shivering lips
—blue like cold himself—
became the very cause of my liquifying heart;
what could the piteous reptile be offered but
a chalice of fresh, steaming, crimson blood
He gave me his ruby smile and I tied it around my neck
How do you repay such love— how so
if not by surrendering your own doomed flesh?

Did I, or did I not
Roam about narrow alleys of ancient cities housed with words?
make home with wounded rugs left
in places even orphaned kittens avoided
—slept like an unborn child through sunless hours of dark's embrace
Swam through tireless waters—
with a pillowcase filled with tales
Crowned by impressed kings in some lands,
robbed by faceless folks in others.
Carried a plank or two when stories stopped earning me food

All worth another flip of the unheard page
Did I or did I not then forget it all—

As winter moved on to the land next door
sky stole away the very snow she had once abandoned;
lifted the frosty veil off her sun's flushed face
But even as fox gloves and lilies opened their arms,
I let the snake stay in my castle walls
sent out an army and fought wars against stars
when he said he deplored the light
He grew up fast, developed a habit of hissing—

And the neighbourhoods passed like ecstatic tides
left behind by unstopping ships

The moon keeps chasing his blooming sun,
never too far from her rays
and they kiss in the mornings and kiss in the dusks
And the sky steals quick glances at sea,
as he smiles knowingly
The snake fills up a goblet of wine,
feasting upon treys filled with meat—roasted and boiled and baked

And I stumble through empty streets, vomiting out all but him—
Vomiting out all that’s left of me—

"I can stop whenever you want," he whispers.

Arms up, fingers clawed
as if ready to rip open a sky
pants —and sweats
and she sings.
a mad girl, people whisper.
rose-eyed, she weeps
as her mother pulls her in embrace
"she never stills" she says, flushed

a mad girl, people whisper
runs through rows of chalk-scribbled women
reaching for something unseen
Sings wordless ballads
with ever-changing tunes—
a mad girl, people whisper.
Bare neck and a bare heart
arms up, she leaps as if ready to soar
oblivious to the world bellow.

a mad girl, they whisper.
as I watch her struggle
to climb up the void—
A tree laden with blossoms and boughs
she tries opening her sewed wings
to grab a branch that lives
solely for her.

a mad girl, people whisper.
but I see him too, I wish I could tell her
but she speaks in colours
and mine have faded— wish I could tell her
I too have slipped off his walls and climbed again
too have tried chewing away his doors—
away, away she runs in the yonder
never once out the chains
a guitar in her dances softly—
as notes try taking her her
— as she tries following

Eyes filling up with every fall,
you'd think she were sinking

a mad girl, they whisper.
Utters wordless words that no one catches
but I too have shouted till could no more
too have cried tongueless tears over vacant airs.
a mad girl, people whisper.
As she looks up in despair, and sobs
her mother harshly pulls her in her lap

She extends out her arms— frightened.
a lover reaching for her submerged beloved
screams as the tree disbands into gusts
taking with himself, her only home

whose sky is green and the ground soft
—leaves ***** at you as insects bite
whose winds whirl about, kissing you slow
slow,
slow,
slow
— their arms around you,
Kissing you— whole— to sleep
where only sound is that of wood talking
and your heart breathing
far—
—far away from the world

a mad girl, I whisper, late that night—

on and on it goes
deep into the past— and forward.
  Still, on and on it grows
a spiral unfolding 
                                eternity
sideways, upwards, downwards
   — inwards
                  on and on—
and where all— that could be imagined— meets
       is this now.
Is this now?
    there we all sway
        there we’ll all stay
shallower than light
empty— empty—         emptier yet.
and there we’ve been.
shining fires— vanquished stones
betrothed, sundered;                        
carved into our very own       e n tr opy
   and deformed back to cosmos.
we’ll be there—
when we are; or are not.
scattering like pollens.
      Unseen.
                       far—

far away from this now
this mesh of a single thread
         on           and on which goes
On— on still
as strings long passed whirl around us again,
and what’s to come late

— comes already.

Under the night—there’s a lake
beneath whose serene, silvery strands
blooms a city so filled with buzz
folks chock on it—
In the coal-coated sky, planes flutter;
billboards shine over gleaming malls
reeking of marbles and crystals and wealth
and little kings and queens prowl about—
ants dressed in facies—
and balloons breathe freedom
as children’s distracted fingers let them go;
blues and yellows—neons and pinks
and greys.

and overflowing pavements cuddle into the hysteric roads
winking cars, cursing vans—
honking and screeching and scratching
and laughing and—
Screaming? Shrieking!
Crying blood! Crunching metal!
A mother covers her toddler’s eyes
as pieces of flesh scatter around like confetti
A crowd gathers about what’s left of the—
human.

—ants before a rotten grape.
kings and queens with their buggies and guards
tiaras and lockets— arrows and darts
and the lights still smile, adds still run
and so does the blood—
and so does the dog with a missing limb
and so does the car that never stopped
Nothing remains of the flower, nothing of the bee
Statures jump out of ringing vans
men in suits— men too late.
They collect the pieces of steaks and the dog’s leg
and take them away.

and a slim lady cries, melting her smooth skin
A child, gawking, lets go his balloon,
A teen chocks on her wine—
footprints engrave in the clotting blood
Through the clouds, flies up the balloon
carrying the first scream, the first screech,
the panic of the driver who vanished,
the frenzy of city still as a corpse—
up, up into the breathing water —

another prince screams under his trembling crown
and in a wounded street far away,
whimper crawls out of a ravaged girl,
grubby boy weeps for his stollen rug
a woman curses, a girl trembles, a guy laughs,
a man sleeps, a lady paints herself, a cat dies, a trigger is pulled,
a cigarette is lit, a bottle breaks open a leg, a wolf howls,
a boy weeps in his bed
—a little whimper for each.

and little bubbles wade in her delicate waves,
the air pops those pomegranates open as
tongueless stories disperse around—
silent on her glossy lips.

and over her, the night sky yawns
as I crawl under her layers, and close my eyes,
listening to the sloshing waters, the owls far away—
begging for the bubbles to stop the screaming.

I sit on this leather seat
looking out a world
this pretty, pretty strange world—
houses laden with rubble and dust, yet breathe,
paints that creep away in nights, the loyal grey.
people—oh people! So bruised
People, so tired—
Freshly moulded, boldly wounded;
Hung up on chains and dried on flames;
fed to birds while the hearts still beat.

I sit on this leather seat
looking out a world
So huge, so huge—we’re out of breath
I could dissolve myself in her shallows
could open up this skin— split me whole
vessel by vessel—poem by poem
note by note
and bury it all beneath her pages,
Taped to her empty words—forever
over hills, in windy deserts,
under dusty, unheard, seas

I sit on this leather seat
as the car goes on—
Through days and years, it goes by
going nowhere, nowhere—nowhere
so used to bumps, it barely shudders
and the world passes by,
she waves her winds courteously at us
People pass by
And the sky is still—
as birds fly along the same route-less paths
And the car goes on
as I stare out the window
at the world so huge—so mine—so not

and I could dislodge myself
scatter around the sky—all his empty depths
his silent hues—oh the softness of those lips
as they collide into her cracked moors;
volcanic oceans—barely holding on against his
— her— serenity.
I could disband this self—wave by wave
—grain by grain—thought by thought

but I sit here on this leather seat
—as all the words crumple together
Folded and squashed, squeezed to wrinkles
Like intimate threads—inseparable.
Tucked somewhere in here—old, torn clothes.
Caged—all of it.
all of it, in here.
all of me, in this tiny self.
barely—barely in—barely so.
like when he licks her dried meadows to life,
as he touches all of her, yet none
and she shudders, and houses fall, and people run
she shudders—and she shudders—and shudders
and shudders still—quietly— out of breath.
shudders — and shudders on
— never explodes.

I stare out the window of this car
at a land that never moves, never stills.

wild crowds—quiet towns
—empty as a sky
you sway like death herself.
the scent lingers where you
—no more do.

overflowing vacancy;
so known—unknown.
and wild crowds go wilder
and you—the town—roar.

overflowing silence
I’d hear you whole
if you’d stay—if you’d stay
if only you’d stay.

we could be so many things
and we chose this strangeness
wild crowds—wilder go
quiet towns—even more so

you, I
unchanged—
two impatient oceans
—still.