post title

a dot delete poem

the clock-face and its twelve eternally recurring dots do not  recognise or allow  our frail-shouldered protagonist

otherwise inconspicuous but with eyes alive in the radiance of a despair known only to sailors who have reached the precipice at the end of the world where the oceans end      

.................

Morse/Raza

Samuel Morse and Syed Haider Raza happened to be sitting next to each other on the high Art Deco stools lined up in a row along the floor-to-ceiling bay windows of the finest Belgian glass.


So, Samuel,
so so Samuel (have to stop before I remind he-who-must-not-be-named of the sparkling starlit chrysenthemums that once bloomed in his beloved Elysium)
 
                                                                                                                  you (no Y, by choice. like e e cummings)         must have also dreamt the same world  (within and without) frequented a few decades on by Syed Haider Raza; both have to make sure that you lend form to the formless before future's inexorable tyranny overwrites and deletes the faded balls of twine  the three

Moirai 

            BOOM!

                            spin and spin and spin

.................

those auden moments of supracelestial insight

travelling and tormented dialectic and bizarre

.................

the udita and rahat poem

Udita, your cheekbones remind me of the chiselled mastery initiate craftsmen would bring to the crafting my unpolished self into a soul more like yours; compassionate, of endlessly limpid pacific eyes calm in sleep and radiating me my sole life's joy when you're here with me, holding my hand, looking after my shambolic absent-minded nihilistic  life

        sheletering and loving me like who else will ever again

.................

On Melmoth the Wanderer

If you are a loner