Tuesday, February 04, 2014


This dense land calms me
with its long narrow walking lanes,
hard soil with coarse trees
and the feel of my father’s steps

In that plot on my right I could see
joys of communal farming, places
where toddy fell on the ground and
the little smiles around that patch

I forget the harsh sounds that
echo in my years of my father’s name
being called by kids half his age
stripped naked without a respectful tail

I forget the mounts that my mother climbed
and insults she took while hungry and tired
with me in her belly and mind
and her futile dreams of happiness and light

And I measure each sound here, each breath
in this land, study the dead bodies and
the live ones. To learn the secret of the beasts
who raped this paradise of warmth


neo said...

No words

Zeus said...

'tis good.
balls-to-the-walls good.
which is to say 'tis great.