Languor, diagnosed

What is this
untiring unfamiliar feeling
which afflicts stars
treading the mill
of a winter night clock,
and turns grey
the walls
of a one room bakery.

Elastic Sunsets

a delayed, slight bloom
in the half closed eyelid,
of the dim evening sun
was revealed on to the lane below,
overridden
by rubber tires, fresh dark tar;
in platonic measures, somehow

all leaving with an aftertaste
of her affectionate gaze on early mornings
telling the boy how he'd inherited
another monthly assortment of fines
while he lost
his disconfected sense to her
on the school entrance
penniless,
delayed 15 minutes
by half dead batteries and
half closed eyelids,
again.

Rebels are Glorified

always. We defied the mid road,
an almost invisible mound. It was
a one
and a half meter rebellion.

Intimacy in Winters

can be hard to come by.

Knots are very intimate entities.
each knitted
into seemingly infinite kaleidoscopes
replicated into
the size 37 finiteness of these flannel sweaters.

a transfixed young, dull boy
gets acquainted
with the cornea
of his stagnant ceiling fan.
it reflects
nothing.

i impassively still, arbitrate the verity
of wintry boomerangs.

Of an invisble fungi stench

Imagination has the sweetest stings
of all. Liberation can be distressful,
a little bit.

With flourish of flouride froth
in my mouth, I think of
how the wood tempts a young boy
with showers of orange tinted, dead leaves
on the mellow grey of his sweaters.

and .. .. with the inconspicuous guilt,
of an amnesiac assassin,
how my room, stinks with
an invisible fungi overgrowth.
It might be my own doing.

© Aditya Bahl 2009

Jim Carroll

The man died. Unintentionally I posted on 10th .. a text dedicated to Him, a day before he died.

I am heartbroken .. as I sit now next to a beer.

Jim Carroll was an inspiration to me.

Eclectic Dream VIII

for Jim Carroll

Realizing, that the vertical upright land
in front of me had been imitating
the trajectory of rising numbers
of innocent crime scene slinkers,
took me 45 days.

I knew the difference
between
smoke off a cigarette stub
and the post rain mist
which floats in front of me, now
instantly.

Little thought
goes into observing disparities.

© Aditya Bahl 2009