I had dreamt of a magic, a mere thing
Waiting to become a mere thing
Just like a rock of inorganic cells
A few chromosomes carry all memories
...
His bony fingers
Wrought such fine music
Out of my rosy-hued body
In the warm summer nights
...
My splintered consciousness is
A jumble of broken images
Shards of shattered tough-glass
Pierce through attempts at order;
...
Cigarette in hand
Matted locks
Ashes on chest
Saffron dhoti
...
I had my colored dreams
Which smelt so pretty good
You know on these evenings
I take out my oldest dreams
...
Reluctantly we set down
Rilke’s autumn is falling
As are his hand and my eyes
Surely somebody up there
...
The morning crystallizes
Pure and silver.
The moment swells
To an iridescent event
...