some poems
I woke up one day
On the other side of the world
And lay there imagining: me
Here, on the bottom side,
If the other side is the top side,
And thousands of miles of rock,
Molten and magnanimous
Were crushing down on me
Burying me against the sky,
Which looking up at,
I must be looking down towards,
Just waiting to fall off,
Waiting for gravity to give
Or to kick in,
Bring thousands of miles of rock
Down on me
To bury me against the sky.
...............
India
Smells like shit.
Like cow dung,
And open sewers.
And also like the sea,
Salty and wet.
And also like jasmine.
And mangoes.
And coconut milk moonlight
Spilling down around palm trees
Silhouetted against twilit skies.
And incense and temples
And more gods than I can wrap my western head around.
And if I ever thought I’d live on the east coast,
I never quite imagined this east coast.
Though the moon rising full over the crashing tide
Is a beautiful site.
A different kind of beauty than pine trees,
And mountain tops.
But glorious.
On the other side of the world
And lay there imagining: me
Here, on the bottom side,
If the other side is the top side,
And thousands of miles of rock,
Molten and magnanimous
Were crushing down on me
Burying me against the sky,
Which looking up at,
I must be looking down towards,
Just waiting to fall off,
Waiting for gravity to give
Or to kick in,
Bring thousands of miles of rock
Down on me
To bury me against the sky.
...............
India
Smells like shit.
Like cow dung,
And open sewers.
And also like the sea,
Salty and wet.
And also like jasmine.
And mangoes.
And coconut milk moonlight
Spilling down around palm trees
Silhouetted against twilit skies.
And incense and temples
And more gods than I can wrap my western head around.
And if I ever thought I’d live on the east coast,
I never quite imagined this east coast.
Though the moon rising full over the crashing tide
Is a beautiful site.
A different kind of beauty than pine trees,
And mountain tops.
But glorious.