Saturday, March 10, 2012
Raven like a Writing Desk-
The Calcutta chromosome,
a river called padma,
gnawing into each other
a delicate touch,
walking in the jungle getting lost
memories of a twilight
an oasis in eyes
front and back,
-"Tanima, aamake chene oke deke din?"
Communism in closet,
Rabindra sangeet in radio,
slow lingering kiss,
-"But you loved me then, didn't you?"
Here and now, nothing exists
My cluttered studio room,
-"I feel like Leofric around you."
An old Victoria Memorial,
Write me a letter, handicapped poetry,
a sunrise in Kanchenjunga
spanning the earth
The day I met you twelve years ago, class of 98,
an ash tray of your thoughts
lay scattered around
and you were nowhere to be seen
and that day I called your name
in the May rains you never came back,
your smug smile.
-"Do not, marry."
-"But I will."
Octavio Paz surrealistic.
That my love for you has not died
it just lies face down in an asylum
like me, right now.
Excuse me! "Tanima, aamake chene oke deke din?"
(She knows me, can you just call her.)