Birthday Poem Ii Poem by umashankar manthravadi

[Bits and pieces of this poem
seem to break off and drift away]

Misheard
or even when heard rightly
sound imposes its own meaning
at variance with what the words actually mean

A dictionary of sounds
each only a syllable long
exists; and each sound, it says, has many meanings

You make your words whichever way you want
choose any language
and i will acknowledge explicitly
the meaning you say these words have

But sounds have their meanings
that float up from underneath
and overturn the conversation
you and i were going to have

I am also the man who tolls for treasure
Every day, same time as i go to work
he gets to work
bag on shoulder walking slowly
at the dusty edge of the road
large loudspeaker magnet on a string
trolling for treasure

my best time was when they were still building
the road was dangerous
for an old man trolling for treasure
but there was so much!

Now it all passes me by
on roads tarred from shoulder to shoulder
it will be a long time before any of these
will rust and turn into treasures for me

July 23,2008