Monday, October 26, 2009


Burying softly
his teeth on her neck:
love in veins



A thin moon
on her neck hides love
in silk gauge



Even if I looked
at her between Naked Lunch
and invigilation
I couldn't compose a poem
on sweat drenching her breasts



Autumn chill--
warmth between the thighs
not allowed


Sunday, October 4, 2009



I feel her hyaline influx
in my deep love leaps
from the soul with subtle glows
her breath runs through my veins:
this vassal of the flesh blushes
as I drink the infinite in her


I clasp your hands
and feel the blood
running savagely
through your arteries
in tulip silence


Is it the perfume
or your body
that makes the night

your lush lips
ripple fire
in beautiful silence

your fragrance radiates
flowers and water

can I seek
my voice
in your breasts?


Spring’s full youth
he unbuttons
her printed skirt
on red cushion
feels autumn
dropping down
the leaves of year
at the centre incline
like a twisted stem
at the end
wind dries up
a few more prints


When I asked
to open her secret
she showed me thumb

I thought
she would return
love for love


Love is
to wash your hand
before touching the penis
in obeisance to lingam
the climax of creation

love is
to gather molecules
of happiness in flesh
and merge in rapture
to propitiate Shiva


Each night in the island
of my little bed I enter
sensing sex like octopus
squeeze her with all my fingers

to bridge the gap
between dream and vision
set sail, and shipwrecked
unfree the tensions

in monsoony mist
search door in the wall or
gather diaspora of continents
in a hidden landscape

as a wild mystic explore
her privates with handgun
and land on fresh islands
each night in my little bed


I knock at your body’s door
or peep into the room
through the little crack
for a bit of love
squeezing my rise above
the cynosure and reduce
to a drop at the labial depth


As I curled ‘long her
we became a small rainbow
playing earth and sky

in half-dream weaving
legends of love in moments
unmemoried years


Blessed is
the bedroom
the bathroom
the kitchen
the drawing room
the terrace
the lawn
and every little
place and spot
where we prayed
or sexed together
we glorified our house
and declared His mysteries


My wife laughs when I say
man seldom loves beauty:

when he sees a woman
he only sees her busts and bottoms
and length of bone in mouth

intelletualising his itches
he yearns to sink in mud
by the fig-leaf hue of hair


Love without clothes
without bone has
a joy within:
soft smooth and full

like the mind
creative and


When I inhale in
your mouth and exhale stroking
hairs or caressing
I ride you into joy and
make you hail the morning like earth


Can’t you drop your saree
and all that conspires to conceal
your nudity, my love

forsake your modesty
and see the naked passion in
my eyes seeking freedom

to unite and transform
the night through body’s dark alleys
don’t you love your freedom?


Scratching between his legs
he crept towards the fence
and said something to her

gawd, in a minute
I see her tending the blouse
half-hidden by roses