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A few dried leaves
He makes a fire.

The fire in him
All his dreams
Cinders now!


Twigs of wood
A small spark
Is all he need.

For breathes the belly
He must feed!


The past is dim
Nay the past is blank
All left is now.

When the fire burns out
Ashes will fly!


He makes daily
A meal measly
With deadwood.

When is next
He doesn’t brood!


A roadside meek
Lives on pick
Yet don’t die.

When the fire burns out
Ashes will fly!


None bothers his fate
High up they wait
For him to die.

*When his fire burns out
Vultures will fly!
 Nov 2013 Gayatri
Prabhu Iyer
Floating on restless waters, tonight,
broken moons breathe in waving clouds;
Time is a colander, through which
life escapes, never to return; Yet tonight
the beanstalk remains tangled;
I sat watching swans in the moonlight
where the canal and stream met;
Rock the boat! Peace is a botheration.
Could the road that diverged loop
back to the fork? Walking backwards,
tonight, leaves and assorted bits of paper
fly forward; After the off-licenses close,
someone's dashing for the last bus
before dawn, running in reverse; three
hooded figures lost in the cemetery,
walking backwards; The moon
weeps tears of mist, that
ripple spreading inward in the puddles
after the rain; There's a weeping firefly
crawling in the sink; Or the kitchen-lamp?
Bubbles die to the siren-song of crickets.
Is there is an Ithaca fabled?
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