March 2012

Procedures at 6’o clock Bombay Sea Shore

Speak to me via the somnolent satraps, the gilded trickle of kerosene
rays hiking up hemlines of the shore and everything dusk-terrained
the ironing boards of backs pointing north, lodestar the electric surf
quivering an aria to the command of la lluna, we are approaching the
quintessential rigor mortis of a day broken into like new shoes dead
skin of an animal about to go extinct. there is some noise about
departure the accursed meteorology of seasons through lack and love
fingers woven into one another like shoestrings. bulbs blinking
all senses piqued by the trigger of newspapers fluttering like small
birds defying storms, this fatality filtering through your DSLR
this window, a flotsam of demand and dearth, sand and surge
the hue of weather sleeting your eyelids like ryu’s transparent
blue. collect your variables, affirm your constancies, nature will
resurrect your fault-lines like slithering tracks of trains and the earth
quake will seize the diem, dream the seizure, your body its birthplace