Do you know the bird?

Of course not. each
   updraft a soaring appreciation for
worldly things, textbook happiness
drowning distraction in a pond plump with water
lilies and tadpoles, sinking down to the
       dirt, belly raw on dizzy ground, feet
scrabbling for a safe touchdown, sure this day there
must be a rock or a tree trunk, some natural end to the in-
between where a bitter desperate aftertaste singes the mouth, certain
   nothing else will be known, that this sour tang is only to
remain on this tongue forever, no

asking you if you can relate is like expecting the sun to
rain down and openly weep itself out, quite
   impossible, come on - remember, you
must see clearly - here

comes the lift again, fondest flying above, fully
forgotten panic until winds falter once more

I know the bird.

Consumed by a primitive hunger, they made passionate love,
in a lovely wooded stretch, away from their verdant village,
the girl, in the throes of a newly known pleasure,
felt something round, just below earth,
touching her moving hip; it turned out to be a dinosaur egg!
a witness beyond time for the ardency of Tamil lovers

There are some mornings
When I look at you asleep
And know,
In fact,
That you are not,
But thinking through
Those steps and plans
That occupy your resting state
Before you have to face the day,
Propelling into action
All and more there is to do,
All and more that must be done.

Do know I so admire the tenacity
You hold, the way you navigate
The shoals of life’s narrow seaway
Through salty straights and tidal floes,
Your own pilot
Keeping faith
with the hand-drawn chart
of the diary on the notice board.

Dearest, I am lost at sea,
My small boat sail-less,
Drifting, turning this way and that.
As you rose from our bed
That hand you placed
On my shoulder seemed
For the briefest moment
A tweek on the rudder.
Brought into the wind
And before the canvas fills,
There was a moment’s calm
A second’s rest.

Legion, O the sleeping of your flower is October
many fewer than everyday fewer and many

O slumber, your October is a legion of flowers
hairless kissing bulbs that bend oh just bend
in the grey bluster steeply bend and oh just

O flower, your slumber is the legion October
who marches cruelly through miles of trees
picking of them each their every jounce and bobble

October, O the flower of your sleep is Legion
many always fewer and always fewer many



(grey cruel blustering and through miles of
trees picking bobbles and jouncing marches
hairless kissing bulbs that lean just bending)

now, ladies and gentlemen,
as you can plainly see
I am quite adroit and learned
and this lady quite occupied
I am, let me make it clear,
extremely preoccupied
keeping this lady warm and happy
as she in her turn does ditto for me
Now whether we please ourselves missionary
or front to front
is really no business of yours -
but it’s purely and ****** our business and pleasure
So, most lovely ladies and resourceful gentlemen
you must find yourself a different room each
and leave me to fiddle or ****** as I wish
O shame on you ladies -
do you not lure your men
far enough into your depths?
O shame on you men -
do you not come hard enough on your women?
go you now and find each a body
and go spiritual, ****** or *****
have no guilt, enjoy abandon
love as you wish -
but really, you busybodies,
it’s time for you to relinquish pretense of  surprise
and depart from here, and  
leave one body busy with the other

In the costume drama of the universe,
there are no roles we haven't donned,
we ruled the seas, land and skies,
in an oblivious flow beyond eons.

A million years ago, one morning,
I stood here, a Neanderthal, naked
facing an ebullient sea, ecstatic,
in the frenzy of creation.

On a tree branch you sat, near
a bird with colorful plumes,
that sang for my heart to rejoice,
the tune had something ethereal
that transformed me to a handsome pagan, so sudden,
tears streaming down my cheeks, words eluding, I promised
to pay you later, for that invaluable gift, magical
you waved your wings and said, "See you later"

Today,
you flashed your smile, and I remembered
the song, that transformed me to a man
on my winding road to evolution.
Now, you sit looking at my eyes, oblivious of our past
an alluring lass, a bird from paradise,
touching my heart yet again.

You said, "As I saw you in the crowd,
some thoughts, mysterious rushed in
as if I know you, some time, perhaps a life before?
*"The truth is " I murmured in  to your ears-
"One million years, aren't that far"
you might not understand, but your heart did answer
those eyes unfailingly told me at once.

you are walking the streets
you do not walk the boards anymore
your trousers are frayed, your shoes dusty
and the hard walkways have worn them out
you are not presented in the glorious costumes
and the stage crowns anymore
the illusion is gone, it’s reality
that’s permanent now
you’re the beggar, the recluse, the plain and shadow
you walk down to the shops
and your speech raises eyebrows
where’d he learn to speak like that?
they ask, in whispers, like conspirators on stage
your actions are too lofty, your manner too distant
it threatens them, they must crush you –
so that’s why you’ve learned to blend in as well as you can
those were the days
when they heard your words, and they felt it resonate
when they noted your pronouncements
and there was acknowledgement
but those were the days, a long time back when they
looked at you, and they knew you, and they looked in awe
now the children sneer at the old man,
and when it’s too cold, your nose runs
and you need to **** more often
and the women notice you hobble,
you leave the art of significance
and you learn the art of the indistinct
and you’ve learned
which practice is more difficult:
acting the prominent, or acting the anonymous

*Go, old man, old actor, every dog has its day;
the new breed eats the bones today