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Written Word
Worse for Verse [September 25, 2006]

The sawtoothed cackle
Of a dot-matrix printer
Stuck in yesterday..

Neat, meticulous
Pressed cotton shirt, shining shoes
The Y.M.C.A

double A [May 26th, 2006]

a comparison
in affirmative action
c. rice meets shakur

Alberuni's Spray Misted Streets [21st March, 2006]

misty roads through green
a born again kinda day
looks and feels like rain

cust, rangiora
strange names in a stranger land
a new horizon

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Renegade [18th October 2005]

serendipity
mixing a wink and a smile
unexpectedly

losing memory
"season of..." something, somewhere
dead poets haunt me!

could it be wordsworth?
could it be tennyson or..
shakespeare or leigh hunt??

there are no reapers
or ulysses', robins or
abou ben adams

Silvery Monday
spent wondering, "who was
Trudy-Ann Morris"?

Indiscriminatory [March 2005]
relativity
restless meandering heart
soulful solitude

hello heisenberg!
tell me.. did the sunset seem
better in a crowd?

Flash Fiction

Somewhere in Singapore [September 26th, 2006]

Ruminating on the magic brew, thinking about operatic urbanism which stresses personal websites, maximum real-estate consumption, self-importance and the noonday dreams informed by trees covered in polka dots, along orchard road. The aboninable Mac Man being the nemesis of the modern-day hippy with the mac house opposite the Park mall where your day courses are in full swing. Taking up some kampong glam with promises of magic good-riddance to troublesome wrinkles on the billboards that light up the streets. Thinking about durian the stinky fruit the pc lawyer calls "fragrance-d". Thinking about a crazy man who is the air I breathe, who will tire of me soon. Thinking also about the Erzebeth, long lost queen to the hungry hungarians, thorough whose eyes, history will never be told. Maybe I am myopic but, maybe true love does rule all. The fat bastards controlling the dollar can go to hell. Urban love, thematic in museums, preaching anime rendering of the mythical quest. Flavors that suit the tongue, mostly that which is acidic.

Patronizing the starlight and hoping it does not abandon me. Remembering the sadness in my house, shortly before which I was pretty happy. Maybe my telling the few people that I do tell, about my obsession with sport, will lead to long-term misery. Or maybe, just maybe, I will be cured of being afraid, all my life.

Off white heartbreak Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Ive decided to be an erudite scholar today. The customary lizard guard just passed my doors, reminding me that it was time to answer the call of existentialism. Inertia is sinking me deeper into my seat today, in my search for money to continue to participate in the stuff that turns my world around.

I was talking to some jasmine flowers, on a warm night in Madras. They were being peaceful, as usual, and didnt mind being strung together, next to very similar compatriots. Somehow, they did look ravishing in numbers.

Catastrophic.

That would be the mood today.

Watch for the book.

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I heart Pee-Bees [Feb 14th, 2005]
I was on the bus, looking busy and important in my blue pinstripes and officious sweater. There was a lady, with the most mossy eyes, talking a mile a minute to her male friend. Both had wrinkles and the stamps of time all over their faces and well moisturized hands. The gentleman had the cutest wrinkles that danced everytime he laughed at something he said, or managed to get a word in.

I was wondering how you would look when you were, say 60. A beard perhaps, rough brown skin from all your travels, you would also smoke a cigar because you spent 12 months and 22 days in the Altay mountains looking for a ring that belonged to the third uncle of the gal you fell in love with, whose last name was Sergeyevria von Diderits and camping in the valleys needed you to keep warm (with nicotine) and still that awesome twinkle in your eyes as you entertained my million thoughts with the correct commas, and interjections of your own. I would probably be that gal, whose hair was totally white, who had lived on to avoid the draft of the cold, cold world, while having travelled all over as well, but writing stories now, and teaching music at the local school, and knowing where her hat and gloves were, for once.
Waxahachie Woes [October 2004]
I met an old girlfriend from high school in my trip down south a coupla days ago (decided to catch the night flight on a whim). She said "I did a you on

him.." meaning dropping out of the communication radar entirely for years on end, unintentionally. I laughed my head off.. In my buddy Sam, I see my future versions.. alone (not lonely) and footlose and

leaving on a jetplane in 30 seconds to boot.

Off to write a paper on Ecology and read about the
"Dogon". And yes, I do feel closer to the earth when I eat
at home more than eating out or I dont run up the hydrocarbon

emission that is my Sal.

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