a want to want, be possible.
be touched so much so that
wherever touched welts rise
to become some more flesh
to be touched some more.
be a jacket in an arijit singh weather.
spin pearls from foreign spit in that
oyster set in the face. like dark matter
i am so much but nowhere yet
unable to touch anything that's matter
everything that matters.
music is the last stand of mystery for me
and poetry waits at its edge like a scavenger
to feast on whatever's left before it turns
into beacons for buzzards, stiff and sure
of its done-ness. a breath waves over me
and is called ribs. but i cannot make anything
out of my ribs because i know
the other is always as much as i am.
~ ajay
29/3/2022
