Monthly Archives: September 2011

Four Fifty Five

She is not his; he is not hers.

She, her heart is pounding gently

like the floating whales in the Pacific;

and he, he is lost in the pond of lust.

The seconds are dragging into decades.

The secrets are turning into goddamn lies.

The diving bells are on strike,

so are the embroidered angels and the butterflies.

Cry baby cry;

till you are lost as the

midnight light is lost in dark.

Jump if you dare;

into the golden daffodil fields,

till tears stretch in never-ending lines.


Just Now

The scones are baking

and the purple ink is all over me;

so are love and midnight bullets.

He whispers with a smile;

she nods – she is still shy.

Who knows what’s dancing in her mind?

Who cares how many antennas

are reaching out to the wet sky?

Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

I made a wish,

just now.