Slide

Underneath many layers of snowy boulders,

Beside the roots of the tall cedar,

With the strangers all bound with love,

A love for the white linen snow,

Love for the thrill of speed on its virgin skin,

Lies my friend from long back.

He has forgotten now what the amber of the sun felt like.

Beautifully enveloped in the soft white linen of snow,

Years of playing children,

Heaps of demolished soulless snowmen lie on top of him,

Carrotted hatted and scarfed to perfection,

Crafted with the love of cold wet hands.

Underneath the muffled cries of many gleeful sleigh rides,

He lies crushed and broken in the virgin snow.

Now it melts in the heat of imminent spring.

Gray like the tabby cat’s underside.

It threatens to expose the sins of winter

And reveal my crushed and broken friend.

Rudely wake him from his extended holiday

Under the stiff comfort of forty feet of snow.

Theatre of the Absurd

a drama of oddities awaits me everyday.
In life in sleep in the air that i breathe
there is a swirl of sensation,
a theatrical presentation of the absurd!
i dont know what to call it-
it supposes a different form every moment
and demands a different name.
Living alone for a long time
one tends to forget a couple of details,
overlook a few important parts
that make up a common life.
I have in fact forgotten and let it slip by me
that the life that i lead is not wholly mine,
and will never be.
Right now I am overwhelmed by the bids of some,
tomorrow I will be enveloped in the whims of others.
these phantasmagoric visions, images
will fever my mind forever,
and one day i will be startled
with the sudden and complete pause.
There will be nothing left to claim then
nothing that has not been labelled already
as someone else's precious memory.
All I will be left with then
is a point of view.
A daughter's, a wife's, a mother's.
And borrowed fragments of images.
I will jostle for space in a crowd
and wait for the auction to begin.
Then I will pretend to be satisfied
with the vestiges i am able to gather
with my limited resources.

Nightmare

I dreamed this dream and it refuses to leave my head Now I lie awake in fear of it I stopped it midway and now I’m afraid it’ll start exactly where it was rudely interrupted Everything repeats itself in a moronic way in it Everything is bound in a circle of mindless time If you want to know how it ends You have to see it from the beginning And if you are curious about the beginning You have to be there until the end After ten such continuous circles You will wake yourself up Once you are awake you will think of it until you are dizzy Once you are dizzy, exhausted, you would have to give in to sleep Then the dream, the never ending list of dreams You may even be glad when it comes back to you