Swarthy and calloused
Hands guide the fragile
And delicate ones in
The kitchen. They murmur
Words of wisdom and
Instructions for frying
The puri with precision.
The boiling oil is very
Intimidating at first,like
Those devils waiting to
Pounce on you in the
Gates of hell. Intimidation
Turns to fascination and
In no time,the puri comes
To life,filled with air and
Hard work amidst the
Golden-ish oil that shines.
The mission has been
Accomplished and one
New lesson learnt. Those
Swarthy hands are going
To be like this forever-
A mentor. A teacher.
A mother. To a forever-
Learning daughter.

Within this shell I shall hide
safe from all I see outside
the things that cause the soul to weep
by people who blindly follow like sheep
seek the path that no one see's
you'll find your countenance lifts with ease
all the negative thoughts dispel
when I'm hidden within my shell.

I know you won't take me back
Perhaps you can't forgive
But this is what I wish for you
For as long as you may live

I wish you every sunny day
And starry starry nights
I wish you laughter once again
I wish you love and light.

I wish you every color
In rainbow waterfalls
I wish you greatest beauty
On your mountain tall.

I wish you every syllable
Of every love song penned
I hope you find another girl
That you love again.

I mean this completely
My lost and onetime man
I'd give you everything i own
I'd give you all I AM.

I really hope you read this
You do not turn your eyes
I really did the best for you
At least I didn't lie.

Please read my poems to you
Be well my dearest heart
I will bow out gracefully
On this note I will part

You will, in time forgive me
If only for your sweet mind
For you have a heart of
Purest gold
You are just that kind.

Just remember that I love you
This I would instill
I love you with all my heart
And I always will.

"God is Alive, Magic is Afoot."*

Who are you? Who am I?
the light  in February can be self-sufficient,
sharp as deafness in the middle of the sentence
heavy as denial,
rapturous as a fusion
in the wind, in the air
forces of cohesion and destruction
play well together
in the arena of ribs, guts, lungs,
perhaps the silent liver
something is shivering inside
the light of a blade
an efortless wave of desire
a tired boundary left alone in the afternoon
the contours of my limits, your limits,
their limits so bright in this
constructivist fabric
Picasso was just foretelling us
forcing the doors
to expose the cover-up
dreaming his internal objects

then we start all over
with every breath
I want to give myself to me
as a new toy, as a gift
I want to love him with overt passion
I want you/him to break and store me
in between your thoughts
the body is full of eyes, of ears, of lips
I’ll survive in a whisper

They just want to flow into each other
clapping, holding on to the fluid of life
engulfing everything, defying all
censorship, authorship,
leadership

the light in February
is newly born with desire
to embrace itself, its darkness
in the vibrant body
I am, you are are sliding back with the air
finding rest in the vital void

the song remains the same
I am you, and you are me
the enchanted blade
is ready to cut
a new body for misunderstanding
we need to survive each other
something is tickling my feet
some wordless revolt
some rage of the living
to impersonate death
to posses their breath

I feel my boundaries
watched over by desire
but you are always invited here
to sing your sea of blood
turquoise or as you like

I am my desire
my desire is searching for myself
everywhere
in the incomprehensible light
in the lightness of his hair
in their hunger, courage and despair
for tomorrow