bliss station ~ poetry

refuge

on wheels like ghosts pass through swiveling mirrors -

virtual, erect.

tossing dice, flipping coin, chances wed, spit-side tile -

the other behind.

why lie about fractures, but they do, on the maps -

fissures, like rivers

eating papers after papers after dark -

eyes try to let in more light

but headlights collide

again & again.

dilation gathers its pieces, walking its constricted ways

drenched in tungsten syrup.

after dark some go home, others gather, walking

constricted ways.

bloom a poem to ear - blazing camphor

on fanned palms. adopt a poem

as an anthem, make it a loud

voiced orphan.

this monolith snake -

ray wriggling worms of the earth

tongues unable to make sounds of asking name

owning each other.

I wake up mumbling

in a lost sort of way, in tongues of the crickets

going extinct next-door.

sparrows that feed on them go extinct

all at once, on the roof - a people

sun their way up, repairing broken tiles.

~Ajay
26/1/2020