gravity,
you amaze me with your
paradoxical pull
grasshoppers, greenshanks,
groveling serfs and grandiose kings
all feel your wicked weight
the bearable lightness of being
is at your cosmic command

some wear you like gossamer, others filigree
for the forlorn, you are ball and chain
for Sir Isaac, you were scripture,
chapter, and verse, Mathematica

you keep me and thee tethered
with invisible faithless cord
to this spinning stone
to attempt to defy you is folly
even with rockets at full ******
for ultimately we must
again bear your weight
but, grave though I have called your grip
you beatifically bestow
this bearable lightness of being
that cannot be seen or heard
only felt

We sat in the afternoon in the shadows of
Ancient trees paying homage to the lady
Who had died, of excess of life over death.
We were treated to a feast in her honour
It was her wish we should be so treated.
She was sharing surplus life here with us.

Where was the promised river bank where we
Would Invoke her spirit amid deep-throated
Sanskrit chants and smoking holy fires?

There is no river bank here but ancient red walled
Storied structures .Here well-fed priests call down
The spirits of our dead by sonorous chants.

All the while she smiles beatifically, in the hall,
From her two-dimensional existence in a photo.
The excess life she had died of seems still spilling.

(Cancer is uncontrolled division and growth of cells meaning
unwanted increase in life activity and consequent breakdown
of life  support system)

Bigorexia, when you just want to bulk up
on muscle, or, Monexia, when you just want
to pump up your paycheck—

To buy beer. Ah, my dear Coronas, now,
we have nothing to fear. The cold sugar fatigue
from your liquid intoxication

floats bubbles through minding
this insipid incarceration.

I may be
locked down in Wu Han
screaming in the night
but I have my yellow friend
by my side.

Aye, Captain Corona. Godspeed.
Take me to the promised land,
wherever it may be, whether the
dreams of lies behind death's veil
peace from inebriation beatifically avail.

You are covered with sweat, on top of me.
It drips onto my naked body
My naked face.
I lay there
Trying to look like I'm enjoying myself.
Smile.
Moan.
Arch.
I don't think you're buying it.
After you're done
You smile beatifically
And kiss me
And tell me you love me.
You tell me you were trying hard.
I wish I could tell you that I benefited
Because I know that's what you want to hear
But I can't lie to you like that.

I do it for you.
I hope that sometimes you believe me.
But I don't think you do.
I love you.

Is it a changed world
Or am I a new man?
Finding her at the bedside-
What'd have been only a dream before-
I was elated and made for her cheeks.
The glossy warmth of her flushed skin
Radiated in the yellow afternoon,
Which I reckoned was the kind of my Childhood naps:
Resurrection is not the erasure-
But the totality of memory
In this new world,  reconfigured around My figure,  the Chosen One,
(The choosing by myself through  self-destruction)
She'd left all her men to lead and follow me
With the maturity that comes with sainthood
The bustle of bodies was heard outside,
Waiting to worship the one they'd failed
Let them wait,  I thought, her beatifically beating body in my arms