I’ve noticed all the gray in my hair the lines upon my face I’ve noticed the weight gained the pain in my aching knees I’ve noticed not being able to bend the strength lost to stand again I’ve noticed the years as they pass In…

Night walking when the night is mine When the night is kind Always in the back of my mind Some tiny part of me knows The night could slip away from me But not this night This night is not Flipside This night is honeysuckle…

It was written that night would grow teeth unfriendly to mortals and suck their blood. What would be left the prophet calls dust. I read: when it touches the ground, it’d blend with it. What is memory if not a symphony of circumspect? I cut…

The Pier I spent many a year catching fish by the buckets Upon the Gulf of Mexico’s shoreline From sand trout to sharks and gafftop to eel My childhood grew wildly there It kept me from trouble, away from that crowd Special bonding time for…

That thin line between the full moon and insanity… That ribbed edge of the flower bed where only weeds grow… That gold brocade of the wedding saree I never wore again… That flicker of light caught in a raindrop poised to fall… That quiet chirp…

She walks alone the cliff so high Waiting and watching the glowing sky Footprints below along the shore The waves crashing hungry for more Where the sea and the sky meet The sun begins to take it’s seat If not today maybe tomorrow Or will…

To write a self portrait I have to step back And take a long good look at myself. I turn to the mirror, eyes, ears, nose, check. Two hands, two legs, a torso, quite a normal (albeit short) human specimen. Unruly hair, Glasses that balance…

“Books were safer than other people anyway.”  – Neil Gaiman In merely a week, I have traveled the globe Via airplane, by boat and on trains I’ve swum with the dolphins and ridden a camel I’ve crossed o’er England’s fertile plains I’ve gone back in…

wasn’t a burden transcribed for us. Most times, it’s not  weight that sink a ship. I know you do not like reading what was scribbled for us. I think you knew more children that I know. The cold is not leaving us soon. It has…

“Just be still and listen” Shloka Shankar   Sure, you can hear, the death knell of your dreams, the grand plans for your life that you charted as a child. Hush, but listen also for the lilting tune of the night as it calls to…