Snow fluttered from the heavens,
Topping the roads with white,
Whilst thrust down the streets came,
The hurried wind, a knifing plight.
But this only went to expose,
The warmth of a fireplace,
Which gave the windows and pleasant glow,
And the inn a pleasing face.
So through a harsh door I step,
To the turning of every head,
With the drink apparent in every soul.
They seem drunken, but not yet dead.
But soon the laughter and noise returns,
And from the fire, I brave the sudden heat,
With that I stumble on through,
To the corner, to a window, to my seat.
Like the cold wind beneath trees in a hot sunny day
You calm my oceans
You bring peace to you
Darling! you are home to me…..
It’s raining heavily
As I’m standing
Alone in the street.
Arms open wide
I try to catch
The drops falling
If only I could keep them
But they’re slipping
Out of my hands
They bring me comfort
But only for a moment.
Reminds me of you.
How you flooded all
But left when it got
How deep the ocean—may it swallow me
whole, for I am of thirst.
I am many people.
My amorphous identity defended by multi-headed Hindu Gods
relinquished to the speculative distance between your censorious interpretations and my own mythical representation.
Each face bespoken to indulge your palate;
I am a potent cocktail of stirred spirit selves, giving you the heady rush you need to swallow me.
A doorway to you,
starry coat of velvet dark.
Dim the lights and dream.
I have so much love
bottled up inside me
just yearning to get out
that my heart is bleeding
into the palms of my hands.
“For I have seen,
The ruins of a grand temple,
hidden now amongst groping vines;
Under a canopy thick with green.
“Further North, a basin rests,
With a beast at its heart.
Through the mist, I caught its scream,
As its three spider limbs scrabble in the dark.
“If only I was done, for Mt. Bonochi tires,
Facing an army of clouds, and relentless rain…”
And the story went on; but little did the listeners know,
The temple remained unseen, and the beast in the mist unslain.