A jigsaw piece soulless and sorry,
I fall from defeated or frustrated hands
Until my methods like some gratifying static defy gravity
(or everything it commands)

Levitating over crocodiles and chased by nightmares
through those old and rusting corridors
built by communists and brandished by crows
before being bolstered by hardware stores

My dreaming self is feverishly praying to and nudging at the sides of
His melancholic metronomes, apathetic alarm clocks and to the noise
(from my neighbor’s stereo)

No safety nets here, just her coronets -
she is no country for cracked or cracking bones
Or offsets for counter-balancing kings
who are thrown off of their thorny thrones

I have cigarettes to keep me warm, and my questions
that light up the summer night sky
There’s competition here too, its an Olympiad for junkies
and when they “jump” one wonders how high

I’m content here in my contempt for the crass and the commonplace,
words that you stole
You can contemplate, connive, convince or confuse but
can you clone the numbness of my rigmarole?


Shobhna said...

This is one of those pieces of yours. I keep having to come back to it compulsively, and read it over and over.


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