Let the shivering leaves scorch (Vignettes)


beginning of sentences

always jealous for they could never

could get to other side of period,

only early comas

just like short dusks

who never make it to long dawns


petty verses were never meant

to worship inexpensive poets

for they cracked like porcelain

at the first whip of customized meter

it learnt starving for mercy

at a young age


swollen walls send muses sneezing

hardly leaving room for one free verse

and a couple of rhymes

that left the typewriter

with more apetite for aromatic blanks

than metaphoric ink


another Juliet-peeled-off paper

to let cliche look a hero

it was never meant to,

except on asteroids

~ holding a rose and down on knees

flirting for a fling on Wordsworth


Monday looks Touchstone

in a pink three-piece-suit

ready to cave into epiphanies

and philosophies alike

Would it still know how glue holds together the best parts of flesh until weekend?


While puddles of recycled moons

from yesterday’s dinner still lay

crushed at my feet,

the unsung hymns get to debut

as new legends of the sky.

And only a while ago ,

i was calling out to the old storm

on block heels whose sequined skirt

brought evolution to no-pass junction.