I wait for her 

1.

I wait for her inside a dark Monday afternoon
inside a dark Monday afternoon’s myth
by a big round space
a window overlooking billboards
and a museum

I know people eat strawberries
make friends
and money..
In fact, there is purpose in all this

I wait for her
in a dark Monday afternoon’s myth
with no myth, or purpose,
or any other form of human tragedy…

My heart never felt heavier

My head was never more light

2.

Thirty billion tons
of carbon dioxide
has gotten stuck somewhere
in the sky

While government issues me a driving ticket,
rights to a TV
and Ambition

I wait for her
in a dark Monday afternoon

Not because I am stuck,
But for there is a big round space–
as round as my blood–
in which I clearly see the face of my Kashmiri friend
who used to refuse to stand up
and sing the anthem
before the start of a film
in India

It is as random as folks you get born into

Yet, it is as palpable
as a man falling in love

3.

The way a poet reads another poet,
I read the words she never wrote.

Her voice chokes me
from another life
across a forest of songs.

I wait for her
inside the myth
of a dark Monday afternoon.

It took me a while to finally reach here…
and see what she doesn’t see

I can feel the sky throbbing like her heart
I can see
how gently
an autumn leaf
falls
unto
the ground.

__

Ataraxia

 

My desire
desires
to desire
and possess.

Then there are these vague jealousies
that can fill an empty room

I pretend not to be circular
and to pay attention
to the laws—

Absence of matter is vacuum.
Possession is matter.
So, vacuum doesn’t matter.
What may matter
is the shape
of my absence
in your vacuum.

I would like to like ataraxia
I would like to give you a name

But it gets more complex than that in the end
For shapes were meant for things
that matter and end—
Your vacuum does neither.

__