Jagannath rao Adukuri
Comments about Jagannath rao Adukuri
Poetry Is Late
Poetry is now the late breeze rustling in the tree
After the temple tank's mossy stillness.
On consciousness had luminously arrived
The phallus god, in brown beauty- hues
And cyclical eight faced phallus, in turns,
Tranquil-white and angry-red in stone eyes.
Polished now as God, a washer man had used it
In rhythmic beats, all for beating laundry.
We have our myths, carefully polished