Onnce upon a time, a beaming baby was born in an orchard resplendent with every kind of fruit in the universe. The baby was named Manika, and Manika spent her days wondering around the warm soft grounds on her hands and knees. Spotting a clump of mulberries off in the distance, she'd crawl after it and mash the sweet fruit in her mouth, red juice ( Read more... )

I sit here, in the effulgent light

From my bedside lamp, twisting a letter opener,

Shaped like a dagger;

In the enduring firmness of my weaker hand

And I envisage the world; nothing is how it seems to be;

I am a contrivance of humanity, little black plastic eyes starred at me

Unmoving rock-stars looking down on me, from posters

They eyes trailed me.

Do ( Read more... )