An eternity of corn,
Years and miles of that golden grain wave
In a monotonous dance of sun worship.
A stationary ballet
Performed by phalanxes of aspiring cattle feed
Celebrates their hostage audience.
A brief intermission is ushered in by an errant tree
Or a wayward rodent
Unaware that they have stumbled onto the stage.
The hypnotizing dance resumes,
Instantaneously numbing the mind and blurring vision.
The heartbeat of the nation is reflected in the
Rhythmic undulations of its heartland.

trees, the serene stature, now dressed in copper;
shadowy wights against the sphere of grey.
as then, bathed in rain-drenched cobblestone tapis,
with red, corrugated roofs resting on pure white walls
and gutters leaking the raindrops to a rain-soaked earth
while lightning cloak the afternoon a galactic lustre

What has become of the undone

flickering screen
models of seeking
the night slinking in
the portion held open
below on the street
the footsteps of the
creepers beat

once you were a soft
survivor beneath your
blanket like a broken
doll...speaking in
shattered worlds in
the dead of sleep
sitting straight up
for a voyage of words
then back lost in
the depth of your breaths

happee three jay!

I went and came
Joe... Jess and Jayne
all have one thing common
all are humane
and
all have a relativity too
the common letter J

don't feel jay
Ian
we all love you too
many dawns we have also seen
young bard still you call me
i love it
so do continue
and
may be some day
you will know
ere you go
who was Loved too
may god bless you
KIDS OF GOD!
All so nice to me

decimals like bullet holes
the luxurious capers
we smiled like mad jackals
and fucked like minks
on the beaten leatherette
couch....
Eating cheesies and snorting
the crushed pills
our souls hovered like helicopters
taking tourists up about the city
the water the color of the
gutter wash
the light glittering off it like mad
fire......a poet friend would drop
in sleeping in a body bag
my only way out of Nam...
and save a few bullet wounds
of ghastly puckered scars

Walking back from GDH
at dusk.
The cool sharp wind
fills the sleeves of my jacket
as I reach
to shelter my
raw, red, wet nose
from its razor
sharp fingers.
I stop,
my throat burning
with the arctic burn
of the air,
deep in my lungs.
The breeze is fresh with
the scent
of dying.
Dying leaves.
Dying grass.
Dying sun.
The dying sun
is pale-faced as
Death himself
as it struggles
for its last moments of life
against the night sky.

How did I get here,
floating like a balloon?

Gasping,
I reached out
but there was nothing
I stared
at the vast realm
of space,
surrounded by
clustered stars
planets and galaxies,
near and far.

Each of them making me feel
like a tiny speck of dust
as I wandered aimlessly.
There is no up or down,
not a single sound.
I called out for help
but there is no reply
so I cried like a child,
gripped by panic and fear.