Lines More Lunatic Than The Sun – 4 Poem by murari sinha

your body
that’s fond of tv-soap

with its un-worldly moonlight and worldly tricks and posterings
as if it wants to plough
a thin winter that is attached firmly with a mermaid

along with the-path said-by-her
the white leaves are being flown away
on the-path written-by-her
the black-flags are making crowd

in source-root of both of them lies only one opening-song
at the end of both of them lies only one flower-festival
pre-occupied by some other thoughts

it’s least to say
it has nine colours
it has ninety coloured-girls

if its feast be got open
the vermillion-mark of dusts
the garland of wading-birds
the squirrels

in the bed of bananas
in between two stations
when the local train stops
from the logic-card of the pumpkin
it’s produced
always-new such dialects
of the bath- in-the-ganga