back home
The lingerie store
still open
the cafe is a carcass of itself
still open
the banks are barricaded, and blemished with blasphemy
the streets
open as ever.
Voyeuristic eyes are sedated
and i am but a flashlight for dilated pupils;
degenerate dialect, open
as mother’s wounds.
The corner stores have turned into phone shops
phone shops to money wiring centers
money wiring centers to currency exchange
currency exchange clerks
still open.
They take off their hands at the door,
spend the night with their wives watching
dirty palms dry off.
The Russians have exhibited renewed interest in the house of sand
the Chinese are molding the rubble
into sooted empires
the French supplied army men with new boots;
Some turned negotiators
Some turned excavators
Some turned appropriators
Some turned down.
The little boy runs with a gun and no assignment
bullets his entire conscience
food is scarce, and unattainable
bodies are open runways
and my lover’s heart refuses to accept me.
Home is a house of cards,
and I am a lousy drunk.
The lingerie store
still open
the cafe is a carcass of itself
still open
the banks are barricaded, and blemished with blasphemy
the streets
open as ever.
Voyeuristic eyes are sedated
and i am but a flashlight for dilated pupils;
degenerate dialect, open
as mother’s wounds.
The corner stores have turned into phone shops
phone shops to money wiring centers
money wiring centers to currency exchange
currency exchange clerks
still open.
They take off their hands at the door,
spend the night with their wives watching
dirty palms dry off.
The Russians have exhibited renewed interest in the house of sand
the Chinese are molding the rubble
into sooted empires
the French supplied army men with new boots;
Some turned negotiators
Some turned excavators
Some turned appropriators
Some turned down.
The little boy runs with a gun and no assignment
bullets his entire conscience
food is scarce, and unattainable
bodies are open runways
and my lover’s heart refuses to accept me.
Home is a house of cards,
and I am a lousy drunk.
small talk
You can’t understand the world, now can you?
And when it made sense, were you afraid?
Do you stutter? When you say I need– I need
when you say I love– when you are
held by your own moth– by your own
mmoth– by your own mmoth-rr– by your own mother.
What is it like?
Sometimes arms have this way of folding out of touch
humans can be versatile
sometimes life favors the broad. daylight is soothing,
heart pulses less frequent in the drift
of the clueless breeze,
brazing around, sinuous skin
jelly like nature
blobbing afloat;
perhaps all clouds were once lucky people.
You can’t understand the world, now can you?
And when it made sense, were you afraid?
Do you stutter? When you say I need– I need
when you say I love– when you are
held by your own moth– by your own
mmoth– by your own mmoth-rr– by your own mother.
What is it like?
Sometimes arms have this way of folding out of touch
humans can be versatile
sometimes life favors the broad. daylight is soothing,
heart pulses less frequent in the drift
of the clueless breeze,
brazing around, sinuous skin
jelly like nature
blobbing afloat;
perhaps all clouds were once lucky people.
toothbrush
The world is dying out, in your face
there are two lines that weren't there, this morning
when you finally managed to get out of bed
your teeth collapsed
and you swore to your reflection, that you would never smile again.
of man
I’m a man of many
constraints
this is to say, I get carried away
and constantly sailing.
There’s no point in anchoring my heart
if ever so often it sheds
and removes out of itself to chase
the ephemeral-
amidst the rage of the disposed
I learn new knots and hope
this would be the last.