I can’t tell you where I am from. Not
the way you wrap a nostalgic tongue
around a…
I just posted Part 03.1, a new interlude poem for the series “A story in many unequal parts, some missing”. This was a quick write, though it must have been crafting itself quietly from the time the series started. Today it decided it was ready to let me write it. Read the whole poem here.
Subtle associations, the nature aesthetic, the sublime
moment of awareness: I was grappling…
Part 44 of the series “A story in many unequal parts, some missing”. This poem echoes the experience of living and writing in a big, teeming city. Read the whole poem here.
Islands of stubborn snow cling to barren,
brown slopes, although it is May. But we
are 15000 feet…
So here’s Part 43.1, a new poem for a new Interlude post from the series “A story in many unequal parts, some missing”. Comes from a remote part of the Himalayas. Read the whole poem here.
The night of August 20th. St. Stephen’s Day.
Fireworks sear the sky over the Danube,
the air lush with…
And here’s Part 43 of the series “A story in many unequal parts, some missing”. A poem from a time in Budapest. Read the whole poem here.
Timbuktu: 52 days, the signboard in Zagora says,
in French. On the old caravan route. Up in Erfoud,
they taught us…
So I just posted Part 42 of the series “A story in many unequal parts, some missing”. Another one from the travelogue, this time about a special moment in Morocco (with pics). Read the whole poem here.
Now’s not the time to tell your story. They said. Not when the
skies are ablaze, not when we wonder if the edges can be pulled
together again, not when…
A poem from Mar’22 that I think belongs to the prologue of the series “A story in many unequal parts, some missing”. ;ve numbered it Part 00.1. It speaks to the hesitation in even considering a poetic memoir. A year on, we’re up to Part 41. So perhaps something changed!! What? Read the whole poem here.
they said you could name the birds, talk birdsong
they said you could catch—and release— the best
mahseer in the Cauvery
they said you died
on a city street
after a common brawl
see how the soaring bird, falls to the ground when it dies
see how the dead fish floats on the surface
all our grief converges here
where it doesn’t make sense that nature is not a friend
where it doesn’t add up what a life plus a lifetime means
where transience is the only faith
strange that you are mostly a stranger
stranger still that your death moves me more
than your life
you said we should meet, we never did
I said I would call, I never did
intention soars and swims, falls and floats, and never dies
I try to tell the birds, I call out to the fish
we don’t understand each other, even to say
we know, but this alone we will never understand
(RIP, my friend, with the forever birds and fish)
Behind the Heian Jingu shrine, cherry
blossoms weep into sky-coloured ponds.
A week early, a…
Just posted Part 41 of the series “A story in many unequal parts, some missing”. This one is filled with memories of Kyoto. Read the whole poem here.
so quickly,
even before time has scrubbed the stains of life from its trembling hands,
even before the heart and mind have unveiled…
A poem from April 2016 that I have included as Part 40.1 of the series: A story in many unequal parts, some missing.
This was written soon after the passing of a dear friend. Read the whole poem here.
I pluck flowers from that painting every time
emptiness shapes itself into a room, into a bed,
into a voice. I hide them…
A poem from April 2019 that I have included as Part 39.1 in the series: A story in many unequal parts, some missing. Perhaps inspired by Vincent van Gogh’s ‘Almond Blossom’. Read the whole poem here.
THOUGHT PURGE 