A Wolf Dreaming
1. A City Dreaming
soot
trees on fire
and the hero of sleep
riding a stardust automobile
dance
dance
moons,
coins,
and grunge jingle, jingle
inside the sponge belly
of the metropolis
did I hear somebody speak the word “love” ?
did I hear somebody sing?
somebody tells me your whereabouts, Dria
what are you doing inside the pipelines?
have you lost your way, one more time?
how long have you been there?
Dria?
the dream is laid out like hot beef
we begin to eat,
remembering our dead sisters,
and our pirate lords
dance my pretty she-wolf
dance
do I hear somebody talk in sleep?
do I hear somebody sing?
coins, beef and stardust
are all we are left with , Dria,
and a city dreaming and dancing.
Moving inside the pipelines,
do you hear my voice?
2. Inside the Scream of a Wolf
Dear dead moon,
did you get my last letter?
I presume you did not,
for I got no reply,
or old voyeur,
were you too engaged
in an ancient indian time,
playing the flute
to maidens glistening with sweat?
were you haunting
children again
with tales of torture?
did you really not get my letter?
have you lost interest?
never mind,
all is fine in my room of music and prayer,
I have just been struggling over this tune for days;
with fireworks in and around my body,
songs don’t come cheap or easy,
and catharsis is a lost smell.
menace comes easy though,
and here I am,
wearing a wild mask
and flirting with the girl in her wedding blouse,
why do women so love
metaphors?
who buried the children?
.











18 comments:
second ta beshi shundor legeche..tobe dria o bah mondo ki..r swapno gulo laid out like beef.. lovely! rub your shoulders on me nare..
this is so very hauntingly beautiful.
love it.
:)
Scintllating as ever.
I mean scintillating :(
most extraordinary!
you are a Robinhood :)
"Inside the Scream of a Wolf" is so beautifully written...enchanting!
xx
Does ur "dear dead moon" still "bubble inside your skull" or "have u lost interest?"I loved the eerie mysticism and the surreal touch.Back 2 old abstractions, it seems!
'who buried the children?'
yet, despite all else, your poem has this subtle touch of some childhood trapped in jingling pockets and stories of monsters.
i chanced upon ur blog today...i must say i find it difficult to comprehend ur poems, but after reading it a couple of times, it does make some vague sense to me...i like the letter to the moon...
Yes, at times, a couple of times is not enough, maybe a life time...
why do women so love
metaphors?
you know too much!!!
you study and hear your world well!!!
"why do women so love
metaphors?"
marvelous! I told you know certain things better than me :) And i knew it, but never did it surface in my consciousness. So that's a poet's job, to fish out things from the deep through precise positioning of words.
its like eliot, the style. i like the style. and i like wolves. and i like your poem!
2:16 at night, just the right time to read and re-read your poems. Haunting, brooding and yet alluring like something forbidden.
Have a creative year ahead.
U wrote words from this in my blog...
This one's special..
I loved this one..raw.. just "you".. :)
dig the picture.
and beautiful poem too.
I have an appointment with you..
My autograph book's new...it smells new...the pages can be flipped without much sound...
when do i come???
Ha ha ha I don't give autographs to friends ;)
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