she came in from the rain,  walking in the hills

for hours. they come most sundays, some all legs

and boots.



very wet.



left her gear outside, still had her coat on. where

are the toilets.  i told her.



I have to go outside?



yes.



she complained.



it is raining.i shall get wet!



yes.



she has been before and had observed that she felt too old for this.



i smiled at her with fondness.



sbm.

The only ship in the angle of my vision
seems to be still, as if cleverly painted above
the placid waves, that reject all agitations
near the shore I stand, a conspiracy perhaps!

No way I can tell if the ship moves away
or impatiently steers towards the port's embrace;
perhaps  in keeping my spirit to espouse ambiguity.

Just a morning jogger from a planet far,
I am nobody to judge, still I am curious-
that vessel with an  uncertain, navigational plan,
Isn't it me?Am I reaching anywhere, tell me.

I can see, none seems to expect it to come in
or go away and hide itself as a dot in distant horizon,
none who did bid it farewell, too is not to be seen.
Where have all gone, leaving no clue behind,
making it difficult for  one to create dreams.
How  so quickly time did erase all evidences,
which rendered goings and comings insignificant!

Is that static state, an illusion, a metaphor for life?
None is here to answer such questions as the world
has gone too far from there, to a space uncertain.

The port is busy as usual, any day it could be.
I wait for something to happen, will the ship
come to life astonishing me and move again?
I listen, the wind that blows from far horizon,
tells salty tales, tries in vain, again and again,
to recite the fish songs from deep sea blue down.

there is silence sandwiched between silence
thanks to the sudden cessation of their croaking
as if a plague took them, but it didn't

nor were they sleeping, nor were you,
at 0300 hours--you were between guard towers,
with an M60, and a hunger for sound

though you were picky about your song;
you longed for their familiar cadence, for
their green belched reassurance

that they would lay more eggs in the mire
and tails would grow, the swimmers would
become singers of familiar verse

but you could not wait for a resurrection
you did not know would occur--your duty would end
at dawn, and by then you could be dead deaf

from their silence

He stood on the grassland of Ledi Geraru.

The sky was a vast expanse of melancholic gray
and the crimson blue light made the night imminent.

Each twilight his feet felt the kiss of the dewy shrub
as he waited for the first star to come out
that in a hushed sweep descended as peace.

He would raise his finger to the sky
and upon the river of his eyes
the star broke into fragments of tears.

He was slowly dying
but a greater him was to tread the grassland.

His eyes weren't found.

Only his jaws still stuck with the beauty
were dug up from the stardust.

Folks have been asking for years
About my meditation practices

I finally
Have an answer

Mammaw knew

Stirring milk gravy
In the cast iron skillet
Until it thickens
Just enough

There
is
Peace and understanding