Friday, July 29, 2005

letting the last strands
of hair still-born,
run as thick
as the smoke
in the chimney
of my mind.
I have never seen a chimney,
it is a read-concept,
it comes out only in words
verbs mean nothing to me,
sedantary on a chair.
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when sparks fly - consistenly, the nature of the filament decides what lights up and what fuses out

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Location: Ahmedabad, Gujarat, India

Lining the edge of consciousness with words which behave like timed missiles.

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