Selected Poems




And where are we now?


Anchored to an aching cry for the fish,

which flaps upon the beach in apprehension of its future.

Anticipating meeting its first mate, at the basin of the origin.


This body of mine, outside me.

Removed such that the exit from [this] body is no more coincidence, than [our] exit from [this continent].

A cloak that cannot hide the fragility, the unprotected scaffolding around my heart.


Underneath this layered ruin,

the young and old, the old and young, both at once,

as yet, non-present. Nothing more than a flux,

sliding between intuition and loss.

As we know less than ever.

And the vigour with which they attempt rebuild the site,

only serves to eradicate the pains of our past.


And still, you ask that I answer your everlasting questions.

And still, I lie on my back in this cold space.


Haunted by the precision of your words,

the accuracy with which you told me about myself,

my history, my luck and fortune, and my guilt.


“Why is the pain of every day translated so constantly into our dreams, in the ever-repeated scene of the unlistened-to story?



                                               - Saturday, October 20, 2018




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© 2018