Some are spoiled by too much
happiness. Some by sadness.
In your calm soliloquize.
Those who care will catch it.
Without stoking it stalks her alcove.
Once gain keying the karmic clock.
Sometimes in the privacy of one's chamber one
wants to play with the nose. Dig deep -- bliss.
Smiles due to stash or skeins of
structure are tocsins. Hear them.
There is no clay for filling gaps
on greenboard of infancy.
Quicker one equips oneself with rites
of rasure, smoother will the sojourn be.
I'm as ordinary as the next orange.
I fart loudly -- mine even stinks.
The influential never listen. Why must
they? Kids and the confused do that.
The recently released, This Summer and That Summer (Bloomsbury) is Sanjeev Sethi's third book of poems. His poems have found a home in The London Magazine, The Fortnightly Review, Allegro Poetry Magazine, Solstice Literary Magazine, Off the Coast Literary Journal, Hamilton Stone Review, Literary Orphans, Crack the Spine Literary Magazine, Otoliths, Muse India, and elsewhere. Poems are forthcoming in Sentinel Literary Quarterly, Ink Sweat & Tears, The Bitchin' Kitsch, First Literary Review-East, Meniscus. He lives in Mumbai, India.
Post a Comment