Twenty-Two by Seven
Long the season of
withering, now koels sing
and gulmohars bloom
*Koel and Gulmohar are the Indian names for the cuckoo and the flame tree, both of which appear in the interregnum between late summer and the glorious Indian monsoon!
1 day, 4 hours ago
Make of this what you will, but I’m in my room.
I’m alone. I’m waiting for a thunderstorm.
I wait for the reassuring rumble of thunder, sip tea, 137 more words
1 day, 7 hours ago
The Unusual Colors of May and June
The only fair truth of existence is that it
always dies— we cannot confirm the
colors of light, for our mortality
prevents us from witnessing… 75 more words
2 days, 7 hours ago
The darkness is where you were born to thrive—
Wet paws stained red, but not from the need to survive.
Instead, you are motivated by the shielded shades of night. 85 more words
5 days, 16 hours ago
My stomach boils with distorted déjà vu—
My only indicator that he is here again,
Since this feeling never addresses himself by name.
Instead, he is like a singed memory of a tree… 82 more words
Each passing day I realize
How we all abused you—
It was because our stubby legs ached
To see beyond the gardened view.
It started with starvation— 112 more words
Today was a good day
For I couldn’t smell my rotting brain—
Instead, it was the sweet taste of silence
Exhaled from my breath.
Today was a good day… 85 more words