waking up with the breeze
blowing through my ribs

what remains
of a makeshift stage
after the last curtain

huddled
like the slain wishes--
'Kurukshetra'

laying out dreams
on the fringe of shadow

'Dream-weaver'

bearing the wounds
of monsoons

we live amidst ruins
scattered on pavement

leaves
trying to emerge--
from darkness

disparate exteriors ...
of my pathway

banana leaves
burn --
along with twilight

'Siesta'

washing my guilt
in February sun --
before moving on

short rest
by the road--
weary afternoon

entering
through the gate --
a plot of sunshine

Could you smear the shadows...
with that paint

my loneliness ...
shrouded
behind the fence

the veins ...
bricks cannot cover

off we go
loaded with
bare necessities

skeleton of letters
arrange themselves
finally ... a story

we build brick by brick
light and its shadows
do the rest

the incense
of red earth
burns me

we thrive upon
our own shadow

we watch ourselves
forming a circle