Of heaven I have found
the word, loop.
That is a repetition of an event
Until I forget how your lips
Forgot the utterance of my name
makes me think singularity
Is the scariest truth. Loop: a queer
Innovation. We pick and choose
From a lineup, until
It is enough
It makes my heart stutter
And go wild. Heaven.
It is a feeling and I’ll stay here
Until it’s enough
-artwork by Ninad Sree
On the day of moving, we clear
old bookshelves, wondering
which ones to give away
and which ones to keep
you reach out
stroke the back of my hair
and in passing, raise suspicison
on how things got where they are
I say nothing. Experimenting with my memory
I pick up a board of puzzles
you join in. again, sitting next to me
staring at my hands. I clear the dust.
It’s old. Really old.
I wonder how it got here.
I wonder if it has all its pieces.
and if not
which ones did it give away
and which ones did it keep.
artwork by daisukerichard
And to the people,who live by the lane.
I write this letter, though completely in vain.
For as I see your lives end
And stare at this misery lane
Too crowded and thick
For you to flutter your wings
And as I write to those
Dark, dull wings
I see your hands are too busy in
Relentless labour and fruitless sin;
To cut down those wings and make some space
For your feet to carry you to your grave
A grave buried so deep within,
That no Phoenix can rise from there again.