Books

  • probe

    WORDS: we probe the garden to recount our childhoodand retell our adventures that it once absorbed. tell us about our imagination chasing us barefootand the borders we crossed with ingenuity, confiscate our memories of this wilting world;and return reminders of the pure planets of the past.caution us of the callous cosmos that now coexist. we Read more

  • parrallels

    WORDS: affliction is a foreign exchange market.it bids iniquities and asks to sell the painremembering the rulesbid low, sell high.finding the point of arbitrage.inefficiencies fade in the exchangethe smiles are commodities hedged with tears.the laughter are equities diversified with lament.the joy is a bond contractually agreedon a date that sorrow set its yield.the ethos echoesand Read more

  • oxymoron

    WORDS: tonight, this hard shell will break soft.with its small pieces voyaging into big places.its lost ways are found in the earthed soilsno singing birds to write its wordsthey layer nests with undressed leavesapologising to the twig stating its reasons.when the dawn darkens in the horizonthe skyline looks down on the soilshades become shadows in Read more

  • orchid

    WORDS: some lost orchids search for home.that’s why they are ever reaching.absorbent lies caress impermeable truths.when they get caught is how they find their colours.layers of lushness create an emergent canopy,that blocks most light from reaching below.they create buds more than their destroying branches;they hold the apologue to be; self-watering, sufficient and still.they are becoming Read more

  • origins

    WORDS: why did you let them call you names that are not yours? did you see them pour the essence of its etymology into a beaker? they add the titrant of syllables and their mispronunciation in volumes of concentration. yet at this neutralisation, you become envious of the beaker. it falls and breaks. why did Read more

  • one more sad song

    WORDS: the flute was played; and we danced alongwe sang the sun one more sad song.this is the last time we’ll show our woundand let our scars play the drone untuned.tears will no longer spate our faceand its melancholy will not embracethis is the last time despondence humsto ask us to beat our saddened drums. Read more