And how many languages would you need after all

...if you haven't said everything that you wanted to say
for fear of being misunderstood?

With

I passed by the same places we drove past together,
The same song rising and welling up inside me,
The same tune that greeted me on the doorstep
of a lonely hart island hotel,
The same words that lifted me up
above the alpine air,
Now overwritten by memories gone sour -

an echo of something
that used to be divine:
a song that is ruined
for no reason or rhyme.

I like purple nailpolish on my toes

No Ser

No soy poeta.
Soy solo una viajera paseando
por sus pensamientos
en los barcos de estas paginas.



* for the "linguistically challenged" :)

Not To Be
"I am not a poet.
I'm only a traveller
passing by her thoughts
in boats made of these pages"

Moonflowers

Se Souvenir des Belles Choses

Feliz Año a Ti

Espero el fin de un año
como un cesto de doce uvas amargos
que no puedo tragar.

Quizas el proxímo
va a darme un poco del zumo
con todo su sabor.

Smoke

Thirteen times the dreams came to me like ghosts
Riding the waves of each episode,
Leaving ghoulish trails inside my head
until only sleep could relieve me of their stench,
of their ugly melancholic clouds:
clouds like bracken smoke,
like the heathen, putrid, gnawing smoke
That refuses to be shaken out of your coat
the day after you've returned from your night of drink
a night on some or the other cataclysmic brink.

That sinking feeling

As if it weren't already so damn tough
to keep these things together
in one place behind a straight face,
this space is losing trace
of any semblance of who I used to be
or the thoughts I used to see.

Poet-ing and Picture-ing

I use words to describe thoughts and things
instead of thoughts and things to describe the words I feel

If I could play with pictures to produce picturesque prose
I suppose I would make a little more sense

Silver Leaf Curtains 2

These silver leaf curtains
they hold a candle to my thoughts
fluttering in the rainy breeze
incandescent through the grainy trees...

Silver leaf curtains

Rendering...

That Fresh Feeling

" Birds singing a song
Old paint is peeling
This is that fresh
That fresh feeling

Words can't be that strong
My heart is reeling
This is that fresh
That fresh feeling" *

I been soooo distracted the last few days, but I woke up this morning and everything was clean and fresh and new and happy :)

Here's right back atcha Mr. E!!
















* Check out the full lyrics to this song by the Eels here

The Deam of the Rain Swept

The stupor of the wind swept
rain swept
eyes laced with lethargic gold
and silver drops in shining lights
suspended
in verdant window frames
bursting at the seams
with dreams
and a day's worth of cinematic haze:
the dregs of an imagination
put out to graze.

The day the sun stands still

The solstice orbs are hidden in the clouds somewhere.

This summer day looks still and rainy -
insubordinately grey -
as if to protest our forgetfulness:
trivial memories
that seem to have let slip past
the magnanimity of Osiris' magnificent sun
as it rises above the pyramids at dawn
flooding the Nile's banks,
drawing shadow snakes on antipodal stepping stones
and bringing fire to Midsummer lawns.


At Uttarayan we flew kites and ate jaggery above the streets of the city;

Today the sun is netherworld bound,
the nights will - instead - move on.


(*) to know more about the summer solstice follow this orbit

24 at 22

Four and twenty times today
I've counted seconds in the day
Four and twenty times these things, the thoughts
(the damned juggernauts)
stood up and then just dribbled off.

Two and twenty times I said
I'd wait for the tide to change,
but sixteen hours and twelve minutes later
everything that had come in through that window pane
had sighed and swung and left.

Dreaming of Dehra Dun

Back to simpler things