I sip on tendrils of light between the shadows, scouring this land for more to gulp Each tendril–a tiny pill of sweet sweet warmth that I take nightly always at the same time Cause it only works if I stick to the same routine
Under the sweet warmth, I bask and swell with cheer: A fort against frost.
With a bruised thumb and index finger I draw a line—thin— in hopes that it will widen, between you and me. But it’s dotted, at first it lets in a slight draft, a tiny storm—here and there So I go back to the store to buy more sealant to close those holes and keep me… More Blurred Line
My first memory of scarves is of a dupatta that you wear around your neck over a salvar or chudidar. I loved wearing them and was only allowed to wear them on special occasions for my mother feared I would lose it–even though I begged to wear them daily. Mostly I wore dupattas to church… More “The Real Revolution is the Evolution of the Mind”–Public Enemy
A myriad of branches spread like veins in a body– a screen door for the sky thick and thin strong and slim lines, matrices of dark brown stand independently in union against the morning dew.
Each year I get a little closer to a little better at– it. and its so easy to forget this— that this year I’ll get even closer and next year, who knows.
Opposite our bay window, a foggy drizzle sprinkles the front yard it’s hard to see the house across the street the cul-de-sac sits hauntingly silent and anticipates. It’s a Wednesday, just like any other Wednesday, but it’s different too The pressure drums against my skin coercing me to form grand declarations even the squirrels stare… More 12