say
where should i keep all those foot-prints
having no lineage
from whose paraffin-in-the-palms
has taken birth
so much monsoon rain-falls
why the seagulls of this earth
have not learnt
in a better way
the meaning of open windows
wearing the same costume
they can fly only
from the north-east thames
to the non-aryan autumn
in the woods of yellow moon-light
the feathers fall down
from the body of the villagers
they levitate as letter
like the leaves of coconut
before the windows of a hospital
it may happens then
in the fire of the cigarette
in-between the fingers
there is no more in waiting
any absent-mindedness
rather
after composing their letters properly
the mermaids in the deep-fridge
are waiting for their next print
by putting the fire of the dry straws
in the air the indifferent neighbour
saves the intellect of the red-sandalwood
thus if it is possible to catch there
the betrothal
in the oily pollens of the spring
