I look up at the skylight
Rain drops coalescing
The reflection of a few drops
Dancing on the wall
In the breeze
Which is more
A gale
Howling and loud
Outside
Destroying trees
Somewhere

A silvery strand of a cobweb
Dances and shimmers
In the pale sun
Playing hide and seek
The silence in my room
So loud
The thunder outside
So far

The daffodils on my windowsill
Have died and dried
Papery petals, a brilliant amber now
Green stalks greedily still drinking
While the petals thirst
The tops of the trees
Through my window
Freshly showered
Move like a woman
Dancing for her lover
Seducing
Shimmying

And yet
I think of Delhi
Desertlike and brown
Hostile and cruel
The dirt streaked faces
The shining eyes
Of the beggar children
At crossings
The eunuchs who bully
The traffic, the fumes
The noise that deafens
The rich women who flaunt
Diamonds and lovers
The clubs for the haves
The stares from the have-nots
And I come back
To the music of the rain
On the skylight
And the chirp of a bird
Somewhere far away

A blue guitar, twelve pieces of silver-
ware, some feldspar, an essay on The Art
of War, two pine bookshelves, fifty-four books
about the past, a stone axe that must have
belonged to the last of the Mohicans, fifty more
books about bones, stones and famous pomes,
a sliver of glass from a mirror that shattered
the last six years like they didn't matter
plus one to go, a shitload of old liquor bottles,
a fossil of an inner earbone from a killer whale,
a spear-point older than 12,000 years+plus,
a tooth from a shark as big as a ****** bus,
dust marks from missing pictures of us.

I took a broom to seven generations
of moths in the spare bedroom closet
when I saw the red wool sweater in a box
with crossed white cloth baseball bats
sewn on the back and a # 1 patch smack
dab on the heart; the window to my past
shattered like glass on a long ago Saturday.

Tear
Gas
Has
No
Use
When
People
Are
Already
Crying

You
Cannot
Take
Away
The
Rights
Of
Those
Who
Have
Nothing
Left

Are you disappointed?
That our dislocated touch
still
lingers,
In buildings now dilapidated,
Days seen better,
Pupils dilated in dire straights.
Are you frustrated?
Our genetic make up,
Ran away
d
o
w
n
your
pretty
face,
laced with love -
but deflated.
To reveal pale skin,
Rivers of mascara flow,
Eyelash flickered like wings,
And flew into destructive mushrooms clouds en passé.
We must move,  
Fast;
To survive the dynamites blast.
Let me demonstrate this,
Now;
Do you still see stars in my eyes?
Is it constellations,
Or conversations behind turned backs you wish to have?
Out of order,
To betray with sharp knifes in spines,
In spite of the time we spent
Fermenting like fine wine.
Are you still mine?
Or just disappointed?

I'm just pointing out the obvious,

In an ominous motion we
burnt
out
like
shooting
stars

alas

We made it this far,
You
whispered
into
the space i used to take up in your heart.