Daily farewell

I stand old and bald ,with no fear
Least self- conscious ,as the body

Between the bed and a tall clock.
The shadow is my body at sunset

In window for sun’s daily farewell,
Eye softly shut before daily sleep.

Window shuts my sun’s eyes softly.
A body stands fearless at a sunset

On floor dappled by ripe sunlight.
I stand upright beside a tall clock

Wedged between a sleep and time
To look sunset in the eye defiantly.

Mom’s song

Song was for a cradle’s swing
For her baby on tree’s breeze.

Mom had bricks on her head
To build a stomach’s way up.

Mom’s song was for her baby
That went winging in the tree.

Her spring blew in baby’s hair.
There was no breeze in bricks.

Bricks sang a song for breeze
That went swinging in the tree.

Bricks rocked tummy’s cradle.
Baby was the song in mummy.


The poet was too much upon his sun,
In his howl at sun’s flower as if it was,
Very sun striking oiled ocean surface.

Some where down a ravine is escape
Painted by cops and terrorists fleeing
From the high walls of a smug prison.

I lose the story of escape from body.
Who escapes whom, as a sun stinks?
Too much into escape we lose story.