Distances
Distances are blurred horizons
and carry smell of ruined hills.
Distances create distances of their own
and arrival or departure repose in a mausoleum.
Distances are worlds unto themselves where everything
is orchestrated into a mirage-symphony of images.
You, My Poem
Oh! my poem I try to create you,
I undo you, you who bring me sleep
and stories of Shangrila.
Vibrations of love, unprecedented laceration
and childlike smile are there if I must have you.
You, my poem, your progressing hands rip open
everything that I hide amongst layers of language
and I at last sink through a hundred degrees
of words and metaphors.
