excuses I give:
I attribute my dearth of blogging to complete disinterest. I’m finding less impetus to write these days. For a public anyway. Any thoughts print worthy are banished to the realm of the ephemeral- I don’t quite want to engage anyone at this juncture. Perhaps all of this will come back when my state of mind is less….convoluted, for a painful lack of a better word. I worry too much...
I’d rather sit aside, and watch you go about yourself. leaping into motion. a flying poetry of limbs. I’d rather sit aside, and listen to the whispers of your body, delicate shifts of weight, of creaking planks, the waltz of dust particles in the air. I’d rather sit aside, And feel racks of chills grip my arms, than revel in your warmth, only to have it wrenched...
An Open Letter To My Father
It’s been almost a year since you got your coronary bypass. Everything is back to normal-I’m back to throwing my annual Christmas parties, we’re having dinner at The Olive Tree again. We’re back to scrambling to get ready for school at 6.17am, having generous scoops of burnt caramel, Horlicks ice cream at Island Creamery some Fridays, you’re back to watching Korean...
if i love you;
if i love You (thickness means worlds inhabited by roamingly stern bright faeries if you love me) distance is mind carefully luminous with innumerable gnomes Of complete dream if we love each (shyly) other, what clouds do or Silently Flowers resembles beauty less than our breathing -e.e cummings Decided to repost this. Will be reposting alot of old poems.
There’s nothing more to say. And yet, aplomb of verses, words, stories, fables, myths, tales- waiting to spring forth. Their excesses trickle through the crevice- that little ravine between the lid and the crucible. And no amount of plastering, refinement, glossing, equivocation and logic can hide this. There are questions unanswered. And all I can do right now is just stop.
when the strings hum;
1. It’s odd but I think I’m free. 2. I’m smiling. 3. I’m genuinely happy♥