Treasure Island

Jagannath rao Adukuri


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Morning images

My images were diffused and meshed with a train’s song
That jostled with a bird-call in the morning’s silence
As the winter’s grass-cold seeped through bare feet
Consciousness became learning and then white screen of death
As a certain heart of lipid deposits became blue and unmoving
An abrupt epilogue to a life’s power point presentation.
A tree gave up consciousness, ready to feed the gardener’s fire
Unmindful birds chirped on its dead branches in the soft sun
Everything went on the us

[Hata Bildir]