diary entry

dear someday -
there are way too many
coffees lunches
books places
people conversations
packed into you.
i hope you make it.

letter

my old friend, word -
vanity makes you foolishly determined
(rather, determinedly foolish)
time and time again
you refuse to read the signs
as if you didn't know
signified to signifier
is always, but always
(always already?)
lost in translation. 

wanderings

going away. coming back.
until there is no going away.
going away. coming back.
until there is no coming back.

the head spins in its own contradictions.
a ceaseless, indifferent
spiralling.
the sickening nausea of existence.
p.s. - fainting not allowed. 

harmony

on a sun drenched january afternoon
my toes twiddled on the balcony railing 
relishing freedom 
from a perpetual wintry encampment.
a white spotted pigeon on the window sill, 
a grey one on the unused cooler stand
formed my audience 
as i hummed known and newly discovered tunes 
- for them, as much as for me.
they looked in my direction, 
i smiled,
they flew away.
i turned my tuneful attention
toward the fluttering peepal leaves
leaning out from the terrace
and sang to them.
they danced,
i smiled,
and walked away.