I gaze upon your glazing factory, this wet
mud-made pottery is poetry in-the-making..

Like an added fizz to your frothing thoughts,
a musical breeze laden with a far-off  plot’s
thistle fragrance dashes to drench me wholly
in a misty carriage of mixed-emotions..
As you lay as clayey chunks in moist manly
lumps, fusible needs unifies rambling yet refined
senses, clumps hard to a beauteous virtuous vase..

This (‘self ‘contented) cohesion being golden,
now that you yield out
…to contain thistle by some willful design

Encrypted nerves within races sudden as sweating-out
shreds to a heated-up mesh decoded in a mess, bulges
random as merging knots of your
clasping needs.
Secrets in drowsy exchange flows wild in naked notes
Swollen nodes’ balloons out reaching
lengthy climaxing peaks
Steeling holds within sprawls out to mass-conceive
her leaning stalks in swishing whirr of bambooish talks

Wet earthy smell he is made of is that of her
mother’s flesh...
The one imbibed from her first grabbing touch to when
earnestly suckling her secreting breasts
to nostalgic noon naps in her soft pillow laps to thousand nestled embraces
until one doomsday of a slow-kill destalk thistle she lands up in him now..

A dreamy life as if they lead in this mingle until a misdirected
spade splits them disarrayed, gives a short
enlivening feel before she shrinks
out of frame by necrotic freckles.
Your breezy smile leavens her in a gentler joyous hustle in silenced
caves of hollowed reeds, makes forget those countless
rude ruffians past bereaved
paths of strangulated uproots

Your warm hearth covers her naked jittery heart in an
encasing wrap

absorbs whining pain waves of brusque appendages
in bled out stylish slants adorning centre-hall awhile
as it forwards towards a death toggle of  yet another start of our
threads in endless elongate afloat in a mystically knit fabric of cosmic expanse …

Ignites like a rapid spark of a wildfire to build bridges at our met
crosswire, senses surrender in an inner spiralling
submission at bursting tips of eye-blooms, spirit
exalts  higher at unreached snow-clad
tips to a frozen fossil even if you kill.

Reasoned successions are exceptions
rarely imprinted in slippery pages of whimsical destiny
as if slyly conveying in a corner smile its impulsive vagaries’ hidden in place…
changing change in a changeable constancy
of a chaotic probability to a disruptive scattering of  assumptive yet
unquestionable cancerous clots
and those immemorially planted prophetic plots.

Something outgrows ‘some’ things
Rebellious implants’ takes on unexplored ways
Transplants never occur for death got to be a refreshing space
Thistle-in-its-vase, decaying and fragile…
Thistle-in-its-vase, regaining and agile?

Come what may…this shaky ‘may’someness is destiny’s awesomeness.


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