Our annual
Puja- worship days are here!

We worship a goddess
Who kills an evil demon
And spreads prosperity.

In India
This worship goes on
For ten days
With drumbeats
And sweetmeats.

In America
Indians congregate
And pray to the goddess
For several days...

May the goddess
Spread joy
Throughout the world

May she **** the demon
And once again
Let humans prosper!

being of sound mind and body
I must write of the days when I was slightly ******
when I would disappear into the beautiful abyss
with headphones
'Dark Side of the Moon'
or 'I Robot' taking me on journeys
only I could take
my room the isolation tank
from 'Altered States'
my mind the well that echoed within
the sitar vibrations of an unspoken thought
my dreams the night before realized in a wave
of painted sound
and when the consciousness of awake
and the boundless landscape of sleep
fused with the lost chord
one was as close as one could be to God
on this plane

Find a guitar for it is the sun , wind and rain
Frets are the tumblers unlocking one's pain
Music is the stair step to higher being
Harmonize with windsong as your mind is freed

Tones that touch the heart of thine enemy , mimic
the heartbeat of Jehovah , crashing wave chorus ,
thunderclap above , the flight of eagles , the braying of young
beagles , the coo of turtle dove , laughter of a child , whispers
of love

Perform with eyes ridden with tears , with unbridled fear
Before the committed stockade with reason held captive , before
the downtrodden and the betrayed , before the hopeful and the vain
In the backdrop of freedom , against the folly of state induced reason
In thy greatest hour of grief , atop the mountainous relief* ....

Your mouth is wild;

teeth like jagged rocks,
cliffs that I must climb
to crawl inside

of you

the sea is senseless,
salt scattering
dreams

in segments

we must master
the waves if
we are

to swim

our survival dependent
on something deviant
an echo of

the past

we are all surfing
our secrets, serving
the part of us

that hides

your tongue as
temptation, Cyanine
spiked kisses

and I

in sync with
the ocean,
sailing blind

Burgundy, the color of a dress I’ve never worn
to an occasion that never occurred

Velvet lined
coffin
Where lies the violin
There lies its song

The heart of fiddle strings
that bare of arms
That heart that sings, speaks, no, yells
to the hands that can’t respond!
to a mind that can’t remember
I was drowning in some future
not a violinist’s

“Alive with Pleasure”
read the billboard slogan for cigarettes
behind the happy couple
running out into their future

Forcing the hand of marriage
Waving goodbye to my life
from a rooftop in Scranton
as the wind hauled my laundry three city blocks
dumping my unders on Saint Luke’s sills
sailing my sheets up Wyoming Avenue

I lay on the tar and pebble roof
watching pigeons swirl
listening to traffic pass on the street below
The moment you know you’ve made the mistake
you can’t return from....

Wherever my towels have blown?
I wish them well....

Do you remember
The fairy tales we spun
On those blazing summer noons
When the road tar was melting
And we bunked classes
To be under the forest flame
Shadowed from the world outside
When we thought time would be immortal
As you wiped the sweats from my forehead
And with every thread of yarn
I would grip you harder
In an effort to prevent gravity
From letting those moments fall
Into the abyss of memories.

Do your eyes still see the Prince
That never took you away
When you tell your grandkids
The fairy tales?