Unhappy in the present and

distant ways.

Even amidst these images

and if they were to manifest

clutching my head

their breasts and wash

away the drought of tears from

my faces, cracking the hollow’ess

from my smiles, breathing into the

sighs if laughter.


As the boredom cascades into

an even decadence,

worthy of my own tears neither

any others, nor grief neither mourn


As in loss of nothing,

nothing is lost

What is it that is too be gained?

Vapid flesh-like attire for

the subsistence pages for

one, none and no one.


A sharing of the meaningful

feast of nothing with the


Ink like shattered pearls,

flung into the wind dressed

fate through star-tinted



Seeking Gaia’s bosom, as I

flirt with Mary moon, never

to tally up the ungrateful boon

Then flung face first into

some-other dreams

And play with those e’er to come nor eave.


Euphemism of Intimacy

In the current of a

tangential euphemistic praise,

I pray, We pray to

indistinct drinks


Moving to what’s courageous,

asking why my name is

I listen to the rattle of my


As the rattle is  my own,

keep on your bibs]Taking sips dribbling

off my chin


Infantile adults, I

find this just melts

What is ‘my’ mould

Should ‘I’ fold into mine


Feet on the clouds

And my face in the ground.

ii. Eclipsed Tangential

Docile scent the ale from well-worn


To find where that which wonders,


Laying down time to sup upon

the titt’ of wisps from hackneyed



Stride of the tangential


A myriad of ellipses

An end to this means

An end to these means


means in the endless

taut of topless tortures

Shall it slips upon


vi. Affections of Celeste

Who is She that may best

the love made by celestial


The clime of Gaia’s

bosom, as She rains upon


As if  were the cleanse the

exponential daily weariness


As mother moon rests,

watching over, in Her

states ordained She officiates

this communion


A cosmos echoes as I

rest my head, the mortal

passion met by her moist

hands through my jagged hair

Cooling the heated-head, blowing upon

that face, spoons me as i rest upon my bed.


Overcast, glorious

the cloud-clad



Full-mooned that




In all its

sweep and sway

The damselled

drips from

that starstruck



O’ weary day,

on night’s bosom,

head is lain

Now night a stolen

kiss from cheek

not lips


And bestow, upon

unknowing forehead,

slow each roaring



As all solstice

is draped in dream,

as silence


Atop the

sedate sediment

This theory

toppling down

these steps


Shade of

shifting shapes

Shakes down

and pick the crumbs

from Gaia’s chest.


With all their




Picked by each of

its pieces

And caste

like dice

and hands at

play as a gambit

A house of games