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See you everyday
haven't seen myself (in quite a spell)

my brain is
an abandoned building, a dry well

I traced your phone call
to some viral spiral

I'm connected to you
in a spider-like way

--webs, phobias and decay

the essence of life is
reproduction and mortality

see you everyday
in shivering downloaded depravity

your starry smiles
your synthetic ciphers

and I'm all alone again

this body is a safe house
this fear, a panic room

but the enemy within
is always right under my skin
~
From the initial dawning

lithium sky met infernal waters

and it all went awry

the light of happiness

constituted halos

leaving intimate words

paperclipped, tongue-tied

and love bruises

upon inner thigh

the wellspring enveloped

char and holm

with faint kissed alkali

abating the stormy umbrage

as if a softly whispered lullaby

and suddenly along this watermark

only you, me

and the need to multiply

~
One night
I was a werewolf,
but that got out of hand.
One night
you were a peach,
but I preferred fresh
over canned.

The blood scent was strong
and on your collar,
or was it spaghetti sauce?
We meandered in
the lost city of angels,
but those women
in the maternity ward
were better shape-shifters.

Couldn't see if the moon
was full against
the polluted skyline,
(but I bet it wasn't).

Then somewhere
down the tracks,
the howler (that's you),
half a dream away
on some deserted block,
and flat on your back
like a pancake,
with the nightmares
stacking up,
and dripping
with strawberry syrup.

Or was it blood?
(I bet it wasn't).
 Dec 2020 Spriha Kant
breeze
it takes a tiny moment
an ephemeral blink
for such a bizarre comet
change time with novel ink.

it takes a sparkling feeling
a minor flash of chance
for such a little healing
turn life into a dance.
Nostalgia is a longing for a person or a place that evokes happy memories.  Its an  
Oasis for the soul that harbors in the center of our hearts and draws us back to the
Safe haven of our most sacred places.  It contains the pull of an all familiar feeling;        
Territorial as a tug boat in the sea  it has the ability to transport us without notice
Across the miles of our present, into the deep abyss of our past.  It is often said that
Love is always remembered by the way it made us feel, and places by their scent;  
Granny's peppermint candies and mother's garlic sauce, are two precious memoirs    
I often go back to my first teachers  and lose myself in recollection of home. It was  
An era of youthful abandon.  Golden days full of spirited living and so much love.
 Dec 2020 Spriha Kant
Betty
Turnstone
Tumbled by the tide, over and over
Washed by rolling waves
Polished by the shifting sand
Dried out by the winter sun
That shiny pebble in your hand
What a life!
Fire and mortar
Dust to dust
The sky stained red
From ashes and rust
The flames reach new heights.
They lick the sky,
Burning new trenches.
I wish I could say why.
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