That is how I injured myself
desiring the right thing,
extracting the reason from charity.
I will now pluck off the rage, the silence,
...
Nothing to look forward
I return my gifts today.
Completely denuded I will spread out in emptiness.
...
Night was descending
on the tonsured heads,
terracotta robes,
clasping the palms, hiding the seeds
...
One day you will arrive.
Night will enter in your pores,
in your bones,
like a baby trapped in a borewell,
...
Fear of a mound,
tumbling down
on the half-buried, half dead
archives of desires, comes
...
Not asking, was most difficult, from
the magma, to send a hot spring. It was
a classical translation of the pain in winter
of human spell, in a temple festival.
...
Will you walk with me
on the banks of a silent and invisible river?
Not paleowater eating the earth
but a collider, flowing in conscience.
...
On the battle turfs of a vernacular
hunger, the hikes were killing
the uncertain values. Committing suicide
was a regular feature.
...
Maimed, tortured for love of resistance
this night appears to be
without an end.
There was nothing to lose,
...