I leave my voice in the crevice
of the tree
the moon rises pale and grim
muted stars drop
in the bowel of my silence
Can time be timeless?
shows up in the soft folds of the brain cramped
with lack of salt . I feed the empty vessel
get into the folds of the brain up through
roof of the mouth that you have forgotten
The world moves heavy
on nerve edges –
an eon passes before an image reveals
and another falls like a fly from the wall
molecules mix into the health drink
arbitrate between the two fires in my body –
one to keep me warm and coupled to you
another to rise to the gods
earth and sky weld in a blind heat of
She went from shop to shop disbursing money, lifetime
like leaking faucet dripped before debt was paid:
she looked at clock every half minute, patient.
Two spans she counted placing the palm on the table: two
laps back and forth to cremate the dead across the river.
That was the third gone, her womb was shredded flesh.
Two months exact before the climb up the hill, fuzz of grey
in the middle of vision, a pillar of dusk covered the earth
and the egg like sundried fig curled on the heat of the stone.
She single handed reforested the hills, the trees first – always
begin from large to small. Who would put in the birds, insects,
the spiders, specially the pebbles entranced by the brook?
I have to loosen
to even breathe.
when the cassia
against the mauve breast
of evening sky.
A flash of umber.
Metal of the sky pours light.
The earth burns
The embers embed
in the cornea where a crown of flame
craves for wings.
Forest is a pyre, a conflagration
of human bodies.
I discard gold from the waist,
the touch of my son.
Dark shadows grow under the eyes
where roots tangle.
Wind fuels the fire, bellows
in the hollowed trunk.
The blue eye of the flame is the cold
silence of death.
* காடு is the Tamizh word for forest.
I pour into the narrow hole of sleep
where bees coat the hive of follicles.
Flakes of skin encrust in waxy dust,
smear on the paper like pollen,
germinate into words, write a
script, take a note of every action
till my body becomes a book
that no one can cleave away –
mine until the flesh burns, that’s when
lines written here crackle
explode and hiss in fire, quicken line
break to leave me mid sentence
If love has a shade
it is deep purple of night sky
thick with fragrance
of soil turning for centuries,
folding in memories
metamorphosed in the layers
of biological matters
that course through you me.