Didn't reap
Didn't ripen

fed it an elephant diet,
stayed guard all night,
pray-bribed the rain gods,
plotted insect genocides,
sold my wife’s bangles

Didn't reap
Didn't ripen

once where were lush fields,
now the coming of concrete

Didn't reap
Didn't ripen

the seasons are unfaithful,
there is no spring songbird

Didn't reap
Didn't ripen

all in all
I am glad
to have
dived in

to have
made for
myself
the leap

rushing through
the tiny crevice
a pause brought
between prolonged
talk, mostly her
rambling excited
expectant chatter,
and I exhaling
grunted assents

from there to
her glistening
left cheek,
how diminutive
form requires
adjustments    
and the heart
how it sprouts
flares, serenades
vulnerability
again, again

thus to declare
that there's no
sweeter nectar
than a stolen
kiss, that little
tinge of a moment
that you may miss,

risk a slap instead,
or a beating, for
flirtation, youth
and lonely strolls
are extremely fleeting...

she grazes
the soul,
tumult in
her coming,

the pang
of proximity,
dew heavy
over exotic petal,

her absence
bullet-riddled
over umpteen
male faces,

a gnawing
melancholy,
restlessly at
high tide,  

a massacre
of butterflies,
a massacre
of butterflies,

crushed torn
powdered
ash dust
in flight  

a massacre
of butterflies,
a massacre
of butterflies,

beware!
the lure of
the indoors,

watch how it
seeps an ennui
in your bones,

do not engage,
hatch an escape,
step out unguarded,

let's trace the world
as our first ancestors
must have,

to awake, discover
anew, breath, light,
vision, flair...

after a bout of giggling,
we quietly discarded
whatever we wore

and at the other
bookend of the act
the tent unzipping

a luxury of clouds
drifting to a *****
moon full ripe heavy

life
you don't want to live

ways
you don't want to earn

friends
you would rather not make

girls
you wouldn't talk to again

this
death silence is your making

tell
me you didn't see it coming

self-destruction
mutates in myriad ways

sometimes
oh so quietly and

kaboom!
right in your suicidal-in-waiting face

never fails to set
the heart into a
run

when with her
molten fingers she
tames her hair

into a bun

may the eyes of every
slithering light be blindfolded,
my love is here with me

may the night be
as quiet as a village,
my darling gently dries her wings

let no thought betray,
no stone pelt a shiver,
my dove goes visiting a dream

hush now, oh deepest
of all fathom,
the world floats on a heartbeat

all things done, undone,
things indelible, leisurely
things, now discarded
a parting feather in flight
descends...

*her beguiling bejeweled body

the bumble bee
finds me
a ribald joke

hell bound
to poke
into me

an ancient song
of its folk

once I book for Saturday
a hunger starts gathering
heavy between us,

Monday our innards
spew out smoke, Tuesday
we are in flames

we two predators in
distant forests, stripped
of pretensions,

fabric peeling warm
off our skins, tongues
scouring for pleasure,

three sea days and
nights separate us,
defeated by flesh,

we steal each other
our desires, how her
******* ache for touch,

as I knead them to dough,
blood crimson with bites,
drooping over me in ends,

baby you can simply tell
me what you want, and I
tell her, laid back, leisurely,

slow slow slow *******,
deliciously, all the way
in my mouth, she adds,

then to stop, take a breath,
start over, **** inside of the
thighs, navel, *******,

as you want it, all yours,
her wanting me to come
again again and again,

she wants me to '**** me,
lick me, **** me,' till I
come', drive me crazy,

over the edge,
Ohhhh yes yes,
and its midnight,

Tuesday turns to
Wednesday, day closer to
sin, I say, sleep well...

when I laugh,
the whole body
one big mouth
of laughter

when I sing
words emit
like a seismo-
seismograph

If I squat, drowsy,
all my teeth are
melting down
a whirlpool

walk, look back
and wonder,
whose vanishing
footsteps
are they
meanwhile,

my as-lost-as-me
friends, frantic for
shade in the sun
and can't find it

together, like a
splash of colours,
we loll in the garden
for the madness to pass

later, at home they ask
about the blood red
eyes, I say, it was
some colour, some holi

promised bliss of
unraveled cloth
discovered skin

ripples of touch
nibbles of kiss

carving of form
what they evoke

bubbling to the surface

Who looks up at the
Buxom moon?
The city is drowned
In its own grimness.

a little rich
cascade
in free fall  

across stones
not yet slippery
of moss

water in
communion
with the being

a forest
sprouted
within

making
branches
of arms  

trunk
of
torso

fruit
of the
heart

now
skipping
over and on

astride
like a
creature

barefoot
over jagged
stone

a green silken
gurgle
demon sky...

one night
when I can walk out
and see the stars again
flooding a clear upturned
sky bowl like still lanterns,

I will say
this is my home!
this is my city!

one day
when I wake to the
morning calls of birds
and a solemn flood of
silence at daybreak,

I will say
this is my home!
this is my city!

one afternoon
drowsy and calm,
settling into a book
as dogs lay sideways
under umpteen trees,

I will say
this is my home!
this is my city!  

and in evenings
spent in undisturbed
meetings and charm,
and roads untarnished
bright-lit and sparse,  

I will say
this is my home!
this is my city!  

I know I will have
to go in search of one,
waiting is a hazardous
stagnancy except in love,
for where the peace is,

I will say
is my home!
is my city!

words are wasted darling,
can't add an alphabet more...  

but make o's of your lips,  
measure the girth of your hips,  
tease the buds of thy nips,  
sip honey, lick nectar,  

fork a tongue into you,  
pierce your insides,  
twist your wild hair
around me,  
bolt love,  
blindfold you,  

warm your ******* to
the incandescence
of the moon,  

nibble your ear ends,  
step away a moment,  
gaze at your island body  
your shy fluidity,  

watch you bathe
in candlelight,  
catch every
running drop
off you,  
every globule,  

wrap you up,  
unknot you,  
tie your hands together,  
feed you a smear
of chocolate,  
seat you
on a chair,  
eat off you,  

days and nights shall embrace us,  
seasons weave a cocoon,  
ice slide down our bodies  
and I shall make love to you,

and now as I utter  
these little strands
in whispers,  
I am here entwined to you,  

I promised to read out these lines  
if I ever make love to you,  

now that the words
are in communion,  
let us dearest,
bid them adieu

we waltz dancers,
we anti-gravity loafers,
mammoth or small fry,  

no repressive impetus,  
no stagnant blot on time,

when light, we glide,  
when laden, we fall

the wayward
bat of slumber
no longer makes
trajectories of the room

dog on leash
used to it

running shoes
walking stick

first water tank
pigeon flap

water tank
squirrel squeak
overflowing

school girls
at the gate,
call out their
friend's name

a scattered,
shrill chorus

fallen hair
comma over
tattered road

we take the corner seats,  
we wild animals in heat
wait for the lights to die,  
and then in one soft sigh,
run a hand over your thigh

still yearn
for  waves
to wet my feet

still yearn
to reach an arm
around you

still yearn
to bluff you
to a kiss

still yearn
to walk sunshade
gardens with you

still yearn
for a wild
honey drip

the days sink
stone heavy

youth rolls up
its lush carpet

I still yearn
for you

round
dizzy
breezy
sweaty
swirl

blast
roar
thump
beats
gong

the
heart

clasp
sway
kiss
hug
snug

one
and
apart

one
and
apart

we make a rickety circle
and the beat takes us all,
bend forward, clap our
hands, sway this way, that,

a bow of arms,
twirl of legs, form
wings, furl, unfurl,
the body confined

in a twist of finality,
the world on a
swirl-round axis
and we curl to

where the planet
began its primal
dance, of scent,
step, musk, air...

how brave words melt...
habit, convention,
bind us, eventually

how birds waver
at the sight of an
open cage, numb

life, joy, waste,
so often decided at
the blink of an eye

as to banish the
fear of water, one
has to inevitably

dive

the joy of
having a few
currency notes
in the jeans pocket,

and floating through
the day in careless
glee is all but over,
they tax our hearts,

they tax our minds,
plying election dreams
and lust for drugged
drowsy seats of power,

down with leisure!
their cattle call.

and when you
float into my
dream

bubble

make an
O of my lips
and gift you

flight

two yellow butterflies
in the sun, entwined,
apart, chasing, diverging,
hovering hypnotic
over the first summer
bloom of the trees,

the wonder that is
travel, paving thy
own path in the air
stream, yet finding
each other,
perennially...

my fingers
her bare smooth sides
a blanket spark
electric, electric  

dragon-fire
breath at my neck
luminescent veins,
electric, electric

a predatory
lunge at the lips
throb siren wail
electric, electric

then in your grasp,
gorging tightness of desire
a heady buzz,
*electric, electric

left with
deceit,
kisses,
longings,
experience

I man,
animal,
crude
of
flesh,

easily
offended,
aghast,
burnt,
bent

at such
teasing,
*******,
frothing,
fluff,

nothing
gave in,
but
frozen
surrender,

as she
floated
through rings,
juggled orbits,
trajectories,

full to
the brim
now,
stagnant,
unwavering,

a silence
acrid,
algae,
repulsion,
alarm

how
geographically
one can be
aloof, as in
heart

oh, of such
mysteries
are men,
women
shaped

so
farewell,
my habit
leads me
by hand,

yes,
farewell,
how splendid
to blow
this apart,

oh,
farewell,
and thank
you for
thine sweet
heart,

but farewell,
it was a
beautiful time

how water
ebbs, cuts
at the banks..

spout
mayflowers
on my arms

splash
in a fall of
cascade

sing
myself a
melody

fling
a paper
airplane

make arrow
heads of
words

step out
stare intent
at stars

string an
old guitar
to frenzy

run to
the beat
of my feet

very
very
slowly

count
up to
ten

a room
caught in
mid-waltz

hush in  
a storm's
aftermath  

debris
strewn
around

the first time I ran,
mother says,
was because I didn't
want to be held on to,

so I broke all grasps
and fled as children
do and not remember
afterwards,

why

the last time I ran
was yesterday,
cajoling myself
to alarm beeps,

like a break in habit,
slow, tired and then
in rhythm, but not like
a first time, or a last,

tedium

did joy
pass by?
the running gods
didn't reply.

no knowing of
right or wrong
that your form
shape the words
of my winter song

the pigeon has not
just lain two eggs,

it has lain the
promise of flight,
pairs will take off,
float and land
with adroit skill,
feverishly mate
to fast-flapping
feathers, curve
an avian circle...

now if I may ask,
as the human
on whose area
you roost,
prospective
mother, what
exactly are
you doing
about hygiene?

like when will the
next pigeon
generation be
toilet-trained?

after all cats
dig a hole and
cover afterwards
so you see -
ablution evolution
is certainly possible
in the creature world

I have no other
complaints,
winged sister,
you take
little space,
may your
children prosper

we are sorry
for the trees ,
by the way

for our species,
frequently intimidated,
perennially afraid,
build fortresses
of dismay, that you
have to conjure
your nests on them

I do hope your kids,
god willing, when
time ripens, built
their nests on
branches, lay their
eggs on huge trees,
take flying classes
off stout branches...

by the way,
don't spread
the word to the
rest of your kin,
that our balcony
is the nesting kind

you see we humans
are still animal,
still territorial,
once is fine, but
another time,
we are not
so jovial...

once dear
if not again

we must be in
Goa when it rains

find a place with
an open terrace

among trees
and lay there

drenched
devoured  

for days

already awaiting
another summer,

in great stillness,
to spread out over

the pruned grass and
mingle with the gentle

sway of the flowering
gulmohars...

winter dawn
sparrows tail-dancing
atop the tall grass

traffic smoke
piercing the haze
a butterfly

the night is
a coveted kiss,
and yet it hugs
us so, gently
clasping our eyes,
probing and parting,
a river laid bare
and revolves
playfully there...

even from a
distance
she wants to
make sure
that
you are
looking
at her

even if
you are
not

she
will see
to it
that her
un-plunging
neckline
is not
plunging

and

no flesh
shows
where the t-shirt
is just a bit short,

a royal hand
run through
flowing hair

when you pass her
she will say it
without say,
it is she who is
passing,
make way

then
when

she draws close,
as much as a hug
a cell phone
emerges as if
by magic
in her clasp

stares at it
unblinkingly,
places it
regally to
the ear
and before
you never
see her again
in your life
there is that
hint of a smile
hook like
at the corner
of her eyes