Inside the puddingland

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MySpace Graphics Your kiss spins like a dice in the night air and finds a shelter in the naked geometry of my face. - For R

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Angel of the dark



smell of midnight rain

and sound
of her blue saree
in darkness

with cold lightening
the hunter finds the rose
behind the diamond curtain


white shadows of flickering breathe

the moon slides down
along the crevices
of my glass poem

and smears the ceiling
with her silver screams

abstract voices
encircle in the dark
from layers of slime
and mud

last words of dust
from the frame
of the unfinished painting


ice-anklets on her fairy feet

piano on her lips

her smile reminds me
of lost local trains

stare long
into the smoke
and symphony
of her eyes

travel down the lunar tunnel
of peace and time

and pause to hear
the music of the cold river
that winds and unwinds

to reveal sketches
of half forgotten beauty


predators in the night air,

the soft storm in her eyes
has the song
of silent blue cannon balls

prepare for the war of kisses

as her fingers,
silky like soft mercury,
slide inside my wet skin

and scan the nameless silence
of the night
for secrets

secrets hidden behind
the vortex
of the old brown mirror


moonlight and magic
on the white river water

I watch her sink,
into the deep hollow of the night

dark lines melt by the second

step by step
sound by sound

like a portrait of vanishing beauty

traces of fairy feet on snow

the blue prisoners
who sing to the moon
and speak a strange language,
once again,
call her an illusion


squint hard
into the periscope of time

with visual sounds
in your dreams

remember the martyrs
of another age

in silence,
the rainbow changes colour

figurines of smoke

the scent of mirages

speechless butterflies
retrieve the words from flames