Quest
We quest to be
More like ourselves
But this twist Impressed
Upon us dwells
Somewhere North
Of being ourselves
And South
Of being the selves
We quest to be.
Kōan
He chewed through all
Her limpid wisdom
Hushed and rhythmic
Veiling monsoon
With sips of ice
Water and lemon
Wishing for wine
Eyes teetering on
The glass table top
Palm fixed to his thigh
Fumbling feeble gestures
Of masculinity -
He finished his meal
Cleaned his bowl
Climbed the staircase
Alone, peeling clothes
Comatose, lotus wilting
Into the hardest corner
and inconsolably folding
Dialling for some
Semblance of symmetry
At Night
And sometimes
Beneath the scrutiny of night
Cocooned in a room
Warped by darkness
Cocooned in my skull
I come to float
quite mutinously through
Atmospheres altogether hostile
And unsound
Bleeding down
Upon myself
Still as a stone and silent
I am conquered close to tears
By your scent and touch
And how they feel to me
More like warmth
More like home
Than any four walls that stand
Or ever will
And how holding you is never
Nor ever will be enough.