Two Poems

Nils on a night train bound for the stone

(Writing Electronica)

Light.
Space.
Tight
Stiff
Sigh
Time,
like
a blood-red
laser that
Passes
through
Our oval
eyes,
like
Falling
planets
into the black.
Just
then,
the beat
shows up.
Weariness
Is
A
Night
train that reaches
the city late.
Li
-quid
like
sleep
falling over,
mo-ving
with
the
rail
Going
away,
coming
back,
in-
ertia,
go
ne!
Sharp.
Electric
exuberance
Like
rain
Over
che
-mical
waste.
Sonic
skin
Acid
breath
now loops
Jumps,
falls,
awkward.
Promises
Nothing
More
Than
the smell
Of burnt
plastic,
leaves
us
with
only
a bare
stone
wall
Some
pebbles for our ears,
dry
throat, thick black tar,
torn
pages,
City
poison,
dust.
As
It
grows
larger
It
withers
within.

***

Disappearing

a new fall. a new September
just like the older times
again. the pujo pandals are ready,
the idols are all bare
waiting to dry
the colours. the market too,
seems satisfied. this autumn
neighbourhood, lost fragrances of champa
in mist, nights in your eyes bring
everything I have lost.
only, I am not ready
to return.

*Excerpts from Goirick’s third book of poetry Wet Radio and other poems. This post first appeared in a different form at Cafe Dissensus.