Un monde de tous, sauf ...

Dans le petit monde
habitent où des moineaux,
s’enveniment sans cesse
de la cause-conséquence-

il arrive, traverse, erre, monte
un aigle, empereur débonnaire,
l’objet du regard intense, puis jaloux :

là, quand le frappe la foudre,
bien visibles les retentissements du roi tombant,
jaillit une admiration parfaite;

c’est un cri de soulagement,
de tout ceux qui s’aiment de mieux en mieux,
plutôt que le ciel
qu'on ne toutefois regarde plus.

Ctrl+C - undo - redo: the cycle

Amid chattering brothels,
like a ghaghra mirrorwork, no one
is at home, but everyone lounges
in blouses of lust and ambition;

smoke and rose floats in the air
making the world a forgetful affair,
lined with avenues to traverse, with
paints to peel, stairs to climb;

no one has company, but like
ping-pong, or ions in excitation,
they rise and decay, swaying hips together,
crossing bloodlines, in utter nakedness;

their I is weak, waiting to be picked up
in amsterdam windows; they nudge
all beauty into bitterness, for
when they fuck, no star moves.

the de beauvoir excuse

Mine and yours
were sold, well weighted
in balances and pans.
The bids were high, and we succumbed
believing in our labeled worth
preening and downcast, or
making deals, saving face, being rentable.

Land, language, mother-
Everything was whored.
A sneer or a smile were powerful,
for paths changed, forgetting all joys.
Remained only the diplomas, the money,
the look of admiration in faces I love not.
For pride and gold trade for God.

Notes from Delhi

I was at the other end of the auto which several people share with their perspiration, frustrations, and dreams. They also stare at the girls squeezing them. So, as I was saying, I was at the other end than the car which stopped besides my auto in the traffic. On the backseat, there was a woman. She was a middle-aged woman, obviously married. I thought, she is staring at the boy sitting on the other end of the auto as if she would really like him to fuck her, and I wondered whether the husband knew of such glances from his wife. Then I looked for the husband in the car, but could find none. There were two kids sandwiched against a man who only looked a younger brother or some kind of a vague cousin; the car was being driven by hired labour. Oh, so that's why she can probably indulge in her fancies … still the woman's look seemed to me too strong for this fleeting moment. I wondered, how dissatisfied she must be, but she looked very composed, very much the model housewife, so then I wondered were there skeletons right from the start? Then, just as the auto again started to move, I thought of looking at the object of this gory attention. And then I understood why the gaze was so virulent. The woman had been staring at a girl, thinking who would like to penetrate that girl!