Shut up your prose please

No anchor word comes up
Against sea’s hum in rocks,

With mighty fall each time.
Early on, posthumous poet

Shrieked in a prose closet,
Shrill bird to think poems.

God’s sake, you stay quiet
And do your poetry thing,

On your mind’s free wing,
Breaking free from  form.

A prose shut up by poetry,
Poet escapes with the key.

(On reading Emily Dickinson’s poem They Shut Me Up In Prose)


Wedding noise

In cheerful forest of lights,
Songs explode in speakers,

Shatter a quiet hum of sea.
A wedding party shall end

Everyone’s solitude by sea
Dancing like wave on rock.

Into every wave shall enter
A sound to pierce its quiet

To break shells over selves
And spill insides on shore,

Like dead turtles by crows
Or lie as stillborn embryos.

Tooth and claw

I was a baby in the dark howling
Out of overwhelming cloth walls.

The crows were born in the tree
Under influence of coastal night.

Grown crows would snatch soap
From open well water bathroom.

I would cry ,when they swooped
On bath soap leaving claw-marks.

I am a body old and bald by sea.
Crows are darker by their deeds

Emptying the turtles of contents
In bodies washed ashore at night

When trapped in fish men’s nets.
Crows are red in tooth and claw.


“Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with angels.”

Richard Wilbur in “Love calls us to the things of this world

We have hibiscus buds in  eyes
Threatening to bloom darkness

But in the glass wall we observe
Our outside awash with angels.

While we await a  doctor’s call
We look for angels in the glass

Who will bring us  glad tidings
And comfort of God in heaven.

Touching the sea’s heart


Lately the sea proved unruly
Entering a beach’s food carts.

Its saliva drooled on walkers
And gushed in walkers’ soles.

Entered cooking pots in huts
Perched on an embankment

And fisher women’s kitchens
As men went fishing far away.

Now we bring a monster ship
That will dredge its sand bed

Reaching the depths of heart
And spread a heart’s content.

Vigil in the night

His   throat freezes a poison
So we sleep in his safe belly.

We drown a cosmic anxiety
In sputters of motor cycles,

In dead flowers, film songs
That come to ears like odor.

We keep a vigil on His sleep.
Sleep keeps vigil over night.

(On the night of Shiva , He keeps a cosmic poison safely away from the world by freezing it in his blue throat )