Saturday, April 2, 2016


Sounds get
Translated into
An inky silence

From downstairs
An alien language
Climbs up to the library
Just a glance, then
It walks out murmuring

Buddha complains
That he could have
Avoided enlightenment
Giving his begging bowl
And robe, he walks into
An ocean of nakedness

Wrongs that do not have rights
Rights that do not have wrongs
Stand trembling before the red light
Three….two …one

Time is the green light
That never comes alive

Don’t salivate in words
When a platter of life is
Served on the dinner table.

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