Dangers of dubiety were inherent in your
It took senectitude to see it. Génoise and grief
go along: one of them is easy to share. Between
synth and unwilling sounds the self gears itself.
Echoes carry familiarity of failure, of cusps never
fused. No past is perfect: it is the wattle-and-daub
of imaginary twigs. Edited versions appeal, warn
advocates of art. Can this be razed or redacted?
Sieves through which I peep into you
are rimmed in desire I can’t decrypt.
Body has its breath, may I be permitted
to soak in your senses. Wolves will
growl. Let them. With mental agility
we will erect gated enclaves and
rustle them to a fictional menagerie.
Nakedness has its negatives: it
hits with light, ink marks and
other eyesores. When bruises do
not deny the beauteous its sweep,
that spread and its insides are for
you. As regular subscriber to rain,
I realize my error: dependence is
a disease. Goodbye at a gangplank
brighten such precepts.
Those lardy-dardy boats we let skim on sea
ply on skin when mood and moment turns
to you. Mouchoir-like happiness sublets to
fluctuations. Its intensity as sharp as at in-
cipience. To mull and masticate shivers into
specimens of poetic worth, deft at locating
aeries in far-flung arms, eggs me on to carry
this curse on the Great Rift of desires.
Incompletions gnaw instigating me
to cross swords with self. Tattooed
by nameless travesties I give into
plowing wraiths of wasted seasons
into choruses that chime: grammar
and griffonage fit in with this chute.
It’s legit to enter verboten areas via
the password of sharp practice. I live
in offbeat dimensions with altered
realities. Jet of words fly me around.
Otherness is neighborhood. Grapho-
phobia is alien. Emotional vivisection
leads to eupepsia.
Sanjeev Sethi, Andheri, Mumbai, India