Walking home from the station dreaming
For the first time seeing this tree
I walked past
Three hundred and twenty times before
Only now noticing that its trunk physiognomy
Evokes a stout man with a fat belly
Forever altering my street’ story
Reality is an erasure poem—
Sipping coffee, glimpsing at the chaos
of liquid currents swirling
Jupiter’s stormy surface in my palm,
dissolving the illusion
of a still morning
devoid of motions.
We read the alpha and omega instilled
Oblivious to the Cyrillic or the Arabic
Pushing them to the margins
Thinking we read the world
Unknowingly making edits
The cuts reflecting the stories
Carved bone deep
Reality is an erasure—
Blind to the blanked bits
Reading from the same hymn sheet
Yet we hear blues when other infer symphonies.
Deaf to the cacophonies
we replay preset melodies
What about erasing the erasures
will there still be a story to comprehend?
The compendium of all literatures
Ever flowing knotted juxtapositions
Senses overwhelmed
back to where we started
Reality—
Mine?
A love poem
Unequal in its parts
One stanza of erased absence
Joy threaded through
An undercover epic
Of fiery choruses under the mantle
Of undulating lights wrapped in grey
Of beginnings with no ends
For the first time seeing this tree
I walked past
Three hundred and twenty times before
Only now noticing that its trunk physiognomy
Evokes a stout man with a fat belly
Forever altering my street’ story
Reality is an erasure poem—
Sipping coffee, glimpsing at the chaos
of liquid currents swirling
Jupiter’s stormy surface in my palm,
dissolving the illusion
of a still morning
devoid of motions.
We read the alpha and omega instilled
Oblivious to the Cyrillic or the Arabic
Pushing them to the margins
Thinking we read the world
Unknowingly making edits
The cuts reflecting the stories
Carved bone deep
Reality is an erasure—
Blind to the blanked bits
Reading from the same hymn sheet
Yet we hear blues when other infer symphonies.
Deaf to the cacophonies
we replay preset melodies
What about erasing the erasures
will there still be a story to comprehend?
The compendium of all literatures
Ever flowing knotted juxtapositions
Senses overwhelmed
back to where we started
Reality—
Mine?
A love poem
Unequal in its parts
One stanza of erased absence
Joy threaded through
An undercover epic
Of fiery choruses under the mantle
Of undulating lights wrapped in grey
Of beginnings with no ends