The lovemaking

The hem of my body is paper and my tongue- the silk threads of ice cubes The night spreads its monotonous tone under my moan the voices that erupts my chest often, about your skin: about your name: the existence of the Sun inside your wounds, the mouth opens and a soft touch sits inside…

The itch

the itch,the orange glass ceilings always fail my existence,an inhuman thing sinks beneath my eyelidswalking abruptly, in patterns unknown,there are things which makes no sensea loose river like madnessa loose butter like sky slipping from my white hands,my hands which are now counting the marks of my footprintsmaking a spiral knot about this moments,this momentary…

The body

The flesh is incoherentthe nuance of this body is sandall things that sit inside my bones, tremblelike sounds unheard,from the Indian mountains it begins to crackpiece by pieceas if it is the wail of timeas if there is no neck to this body.Humans- all that they love, sinks beneath,somewhere.And my eyes become wrinkled pomegranate seedsawash…

The Kali Project: From Start to Finish

Originally posted on Indie Blu(e) Publishing: An exhaustive account of the inception and the fruition of the Kali Project by Co-Editor Candice Louisa Daquin At the beginning of 2020 … I had a conversation with Indian surrealist poet Devika Mathur about an anthology of Indian women poets. I had just edited Devika’s first poetry… The…

This Moment

Inspired by- Eavan Boland A balcony. Brewed tea. Things are getting ready. a neighbour folds her dried out clothes. Another vendor strolls across the streets. Oranges and papayas , he screams. Stars and moon, things become raw at night. Opaque tunes of the clouds distorting, things pause as the sun sets in. This moment, a…

If I could- a poem from my book ‘Crimson Skins’

If I couldI would elope with my insanitywith a lavender bud blooming insidemy cheek.I write mad thingsdrawing the turbid face of a blue ladyas if she has no blood vessels.Breathless.Slow.Melting.Twirling in my skirt skirts,twirling along the locus.My breaths inflate this entire galaxy.like an elastic stuck to the tongue,this tongue that is motionless too.If I could,…

A Memoir about Prayers and Healing

Things do not attach themselves to our void, till we allow it to occur. Things- broken, upsetting they instill our hearts and soul with remorse and pain. A haunting truth about liberation is when we clench our minds limited only to the point we think we need it, it never occurs. What about the next…

The Night

And after the things have been quiet,a slow nocturnal pause returnsa pause to collapse again,There is an endless whistling,with a bleached skya bleached portion of the sunsetI can still touch it,the surface of things breaking apart,the nuisance of the blood vesselthe hanging canopy of faces: dry/parallel.The night takes everything within itself,abandoned by all,it has not…

the women of my time

The women of my time spend too much time thinking, thinking about the leftover foods the leftover oil, cucumbers and what not The women of my time speak a vacant language a kind of verbiage which makes you stutter they have a lost glory eyesight they wish to see things yet falls on a flat…

Falling Dream

I am quiet too oftenlike the empty hallways,humming a song already forgottenwith a tilting toe towards the suna sigh: pink fingers dipped in paina sigh: pink fingers dipped in hallucination there is a staircase nowfalling beneath my parting headhalf towards left, half towards rightdays whistling on sea wavesabout my country in flames,about my city in…

Yellow- a poem

Yellow – scratched and heavyan unknown desire to melt between the stasis of the sky.Yellow,a color that dissolves inside my thin muscles,my tongue wired up with your name,a loose sheet of kiss and melancholy,Yellow: a quiet tapestry that hangs loosebearing limbs out of balancebearing mouths dripping foolish sins.An external pain of the body,a pain crisp…

A love tale

Beneath my chinabove the nape of the necka heralding discover I utter,a tune of orgasm in sunshinea tune of roaring diaphragm,here, I sit and count my fingers dippednumb and electric,so much despairthat stares back.So much to reachjust a handcold, cold, coldand nothing else now.Limping and stuttering,between my cold claviclewith bones so thin and weak There…

Life Update

It has been a long time since I have interacted with my WordPress readers. I hope everyone is doing fine or just surviving things at the their best level. It’s okay if this year did not start with a kick for you. Trust your timings! I am trying to reset my mindset with slow living.…