POLLEN

Orient your little heads
Those little heads on nano bodies
Orient them and
Dart away
Like tramps with uncharacteristic urgency,
Go everywhere
Spread yourselves out, and
Scatter
You are not the territory-sensitive animal
You are not the jurisdiction-conscious mortal
You are not a medium-bound prisoner
Sprint away, fly, crawl, swim, dance
You are the ubiquitous free spirit
The truly unfettered one
So arbitrary, so crazy,
So unbound, so free:
Perhaps those are not
Little heads with nano bodies,
But are really,
Tiny bodies with no heads
No, yours are not the thinking, calculating, planning heads
Yours are (only) the truly free bodies
And yours are the only truly free bodies;
With a speed that is part mood, part intent
And all of the world as your resting place
You are the archetypal traveller
May your free tribe multiply and increase
But no, not in this nostril you tease!

*smirks* !

DECONSTRUCTION

I.
Beads of sweat
glide across
sinewy calves
balancing on
mossy wood-boards

II.
Brown wrinkled hands
rest on a
black bench
beneath the
brilliant sunset

III.
A happy cloud of
silence
hangs above the
two
sitting on the
earthen bench

IV.
Defining marks of
charcoal
adorning
cracked yellow walls

V.
Scraps of paper
in a
pretty wicker basket
posing as
waste

VI.
Leaping orange-blue flames
tickle a
cold, blackened bottom

P.O.A

Yawns glide
Colours fly
Eyelids lie down
Smiles amble
Across from one swimming face to another
in a lake of paddling jaws;
And arms moonwalk
While toes shuffle
Like a pile of autumn leaves in the wind;
Hips seesaw
Sighs thaw
Lips seethe
And thighs crawl
Languidly in careless angles
Like bangles
Sweeping up and down a wrist;
Sloth bobs like a small sailboat
Sailing between bones and joints that sit pretty like sand,
lying back, drawing away, making peace, being at ease
Hair toils, in trying to get everywhere
Elbows recoil so they don’t spread themselves bare
And eyebrows are slow, thirsty camels
The expansive forehead stretches
To the horizons of the rising and setting ears
That carry bird songs in their little hemispheres
And palms are dewy leaves
Knees are sloppy jacket sleeves
Heels ruminate
While the tongue gyrates
And impulses are late
This crusty morning
Baked with lusty sunshine
And eyes wait…

Eyes wilt
And shoulders jilt
Resolve turns to silt
Oh we’re just fine!
Yes, the chin toes the line
And sets out to mine
the fingertips for usefulness
Let the teeth practice finesse
While the thought reorients
Its capricious self;
Cheeks chide
As another yawn glides…

THIRD LIFE

Hello Blog, hello once again!

Yes it has been VERY long (for various reasons). But after thinking about resurrecting this blog a couple of times before, I have now decided to actually do it. I have decided to go ahead and post things without thinking too much and prejudging them myself. So there will be old stuff, new stuff, new ones that are growing old, and all other kinds.

I don't think anybody reads this blog (at least ever since it was in hibernation). Hopefully, that will change. (And hopefully you will be pulled out of the 'Graveyard blogs' list! :P)
So, welcome to your Third Life!
Now, though I've maintained silence for quite long, I have been writing. So at this stage, there may be a deluge of posts. Or maybe not; I'll ration them, I like moderation.

Feedback, suggestions, criticism are all very welcome :)

Image from: www.phillyskyline.com/archive_0711b.htm