electric storm

electric storm
sky kiss
artillery pulses
from cloud hearts
gentle rain
sky caress
slow vein melt
from cloud hearts

No Time for Heartbreak

I have no time for heartbreak,
No time to softly
Contemplate
The friendly folds
Of a handkerchief,
Wrinkled in all the right
Places,
To look just like
Your eyes,
When you laugh.
No time to drive,
Nowhere,
In the rain,
Just to see
The wipers work,
Like metal eyelashes,
Callously sweeping away
The sky's sorrow.
No time for heartbreak.
No time to love anew.

i thank god

i thank god
that when you came back
the room was dark
i felt your hair
it was straighter
smoother
shorter
i heard your voice
barely reaching me
in the din
i smelled you clothes
the scent i never
forgot
but i thank god
above
i did not have to see
your face
which in daylight
once bore
a thousand holes
into my mind

Ironic

Ironic,
Isn't it--
We were in the kitchen,
Such hearth to warm
This pounding mass of love,
With a little bit of
Garam masala,
When hot oil,
And metal spoon,
Fed my hand
A searing bite.

The welts began to form,
Even as I ran to the sink.
You stood helpless by.
The music played on.

Later that night,
Again, so ironic,
We left the aromatic
Kitchen,
For the
Black room of
Silver screens,
A glistening web,
Fresh of Hollywood dew,
For our illusory
Pleasure.

You sat
To my left,
My right hand
Cradled in
Ice.
He came in late,
As usual,
And took his seat by you,
Took his place by you,
Took my place from you,
Feeding me,
Again,
A spoonful
Of hot oil.

The Russian

cigarette smoke

and cat hair

soviet posters

a few armchairs

left from explorers old

the russian smiles

at me

beard like black

lace

a nose that could hook

a trout

he shakes my hand

and smudges his 

ashtray

a little more

what can i do for you?

Curry

he says,

you know,

i love you all the time,

but i don't have to say it

right before i order

my curry.

it's morally

irrelevant.

the moral 

relevance 

of curry,

then,

must be the 

spice of life.

perhaps i shall tell him

i love him

before i order

noodles.

Our Very Breath

the air sweats and cries
no need for rainclouds
our very breath
gives life to water
the moisture smoothing
the flood stirring
the river running through

Full Moon

Silver marble skin

Chisled by shadows

Smoothed by love

In the light 

Of the full moon

Grass in dewey glisten

Lovers' breath 

Into silver drops

In the light

Of the full moon

Sweat appeased

Passions fulfilled

Quiet sighs and stars' caresses

In the light

Of the full moon

The Drive

this is what it looks like

when a person is so angry

that they can no longer listen

a flower picked

by the side of the road

car dissheveled

doors swinging

fumes still sighing

from enflamed pipes

miles away from

home

broken cement playing

shadow checkers

with the soupy sun

clock in the dashboard

slowly chipping away

the fury

as tear by tear

petal by petal

all the angry love

falls to the feet

of roadside weeds