Holidaying in Chimney Woods
These woods are like a mother
putting all embers out.
Sweet wind winnows me out of
...
It’s the sole legacy from his dad.
A cup of ice cream tempts him
more than the alluring face of
...
Umbrella stones are the guards of a
generation lying under the centuries.
The bones of our forefathers are
intact under the seal of green moss.
...
A rural priest
rolls and throws out
the wedding mantras.
The ritualistic ululation
...
Her callused fingers
plow flour. A clock
pendulum annoys her.
‘Anon', he's impatient
...
Our evenings have withdrawn
into a closed living room,
where we don't chat
but let a large TV cheat us.
...
Plowing the pages of textbooks,
Sali's teenage sauntered away
like a bull.
...
A dry silence in
the classroom
may catch laugh
from her loud
...
I'm here in the mossy pool,
yet you never feel my presence.
I'm a clumsy wingless child.
...