My day starts at 5 am, an hour before your alarm...
stirring you from whatever soft dreamland you...

like a bull-elephant sharpening
tusks on tree-trunk, i take to...

when the sky blossoms mauve,
the words we marinated with...

of the lands that you and I know –
we know intimately, that this land...

you swallow your breath as
thunder bleeds onto the...

you are to my poetry like the stars
are to infinity. the verses that blossom...

you trample me with your soft fingers;
clay in your palms – i am clay in your hands...

you are like the stirring waters of the sea,
salt-wind licks your hair and tousles it in...

i wish i could drape the sky on you tonight,
the sunset – the oranges, the reds, the yellows...

as much wind you can gather in your lungs,
i want you to scream my name one last time...

we’ve run out of the primordial –
stalling stars, spinning chaotically...

flesh wounds excise fragments of you,
while you’re torn between licking wounds...