Tuesday, November 27, 2018

may my heart
always be open
to little birds
who are the
secrets of
living.

~ e e cummings
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Sunday, November 4, 2018

A bambino with a circumspect eye
you peeped
out of the shadows
and asked,
fearfully,
and with a certain stressful temerity,
how long is the day in the winter,
or a night in the dark?
A week, a month, a year,
or ages?
Bambino, a graffiti image , favorite of the watercolour kids
who have grown up overnight.
Thousands and thousands of miles mean nothing more than an abyss,
easily described , because they have now the language and its vocabulary.
Miles away, the flight of the eagle or the white swan, or the weary heron,
it is for some an insurmountable passage of time and space.
The bambino comes forward again in the dream to ask, "What are we striving for? Do we know? Does anyone know?"

Sushama Karnik
May 22, 2015



Fawn

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