Jagannath rao Adukuri Poems

Behind the wall the sound had come
Of illogic and helplessness, in bed
And in the insecurity of the bathroom.
Then she laughed her eyes slanting
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As rain falls softly on the gleaming park trees, I walk on the wet track
And its etched geometrical shapes move endlessly like Nabokov’s trees
Which seem to be going on a pilgrimage to somewhere all the time.
The boy in his story has drawn gods with round eyes looking at the sky
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The pastor’s mind is dark as a moonless night.
In it she is a sepulchral figure, cold as death.
Some times, on certain moonlit nights
As the world becomes unbearably beautiful,
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He is our temple man, our friendly intermediary between us and God.
His words were a mere drone in the temple loud speaker in the morning
But the power of his words extended beyond the earth’s borders.
He has a belly round as God’s earth, with cosmic incantations in them
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A lonely worker chipped away at the neighbor’s roof,
A leaking roof between the sky and my neighbor
When the sky poured torrents of rain on his head.
The hammer-beats echoed in the hollow afternoon,
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The city stands on the sea where the waves beat black rocks,
The white surf of an ocean which stretches to distant Aden
Where the ancestors had landed in a dhow to make trading money.
Tall white stone buildings stood quietly against the blue sea.
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A nose-sniffing doctor marries a doctor.
We are listening to the wedding chatter
As though we are on the operation table
And consequently, are in an extended dream.
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In Randy Pausch’s last lecture there is space
Left briefly only to be occupied all time-
The space that will exist all time, lacking
In substance like a quarry in the hillock,
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While I was having my head shaved in her smoke
I asked why the hearse should have blown the siren
As we had gone about throwing flattened rice on her silence.
But, when she was alive, the van that took her
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