Elements of Composition
Composed as I am, like others, of elements on certain well-known lists,father's seed and mother's egggathering earth, air, fire, mostly water, into a mulberry mass,moulding calcium,carbon, even gold, magnesium and such, into a chattering self tangledin love and work,scary dreams, capable of eyes that can see, only by moving constantly,the constancy of thingslike Stonehenge or cherry trees;add uncle's eleven fingers making shadow-plays of rajasand cats, hissing,becoming fingers again, the look of panic on sister's facean hour beforeher wedding, a dated newspaper map, of a place one has never seen, maybeno longer thereafter the riots, downtown Nairobi, that a friend carried in his passportas others woulda woman's picture in their wallets;add the lepers of Madurai, male, female, married,with children,lion faces, crabs for claws, clotted on their shadowsunder the stone-eyedgoddesses of dance, mere pillars, moving as nothing on earthcan move &mdashI pass through them as they pass through metaking and leavingaffections, seeds, skeletons,millennia of fossil records of insects that do not lasta day,body-prints of mayflies, a legend half-heardin a trainof the half-man searching for an ever-fleeingother halfthrough Muharram tigers, hyacinths in crocodile waters,and the sweettwisted lives of epileptic saints,and even as I add I lose, decompose,into my elementsinto other names and forms, past, and passing, tenseswithout time,caterpillar on a leaf, eating, being eaten.
Other author posts
Prayers To Lord Murugan
1 Lord of new arrivals lovers and rivals: arrive at once with cockfight and banner— dance till on this and the next three hills women's hands and the garlands on the chests of men will turn like chariotwheels O where are the cockscombs and where t...
A River
In Madurai,city of temples and poets,who sang of cities and temples,every summera river dries to a tricklein the sand,baring the sand ribs,straw and women's hairclogging the watergatesat the rusty barsunder the bridges with patchesof repair all ov...
Still Life
When she left me after lunch, I read for a while But I suddenly wanted to look again and I saw the half-eaten sandwich, bread, lettuce and salami, all carrying the shape of her bite
On The Death of A Poem
Images consult one another, a conscience- stricken jury, and come slowly to a sentence