If you came here
or how soon can I pleasure your time
you must stay the night
give us a chance to manufacture layers
slowly partake in the recklessness of living.
Any making as you know needs fistfuls of patience.
I know the intent of our love
will change its shape as it moves
through the silt of the blue night.
Under it our earthen bodies will change shapes too.
When you’re around I often wonder
why don’t we make rooms without ceilings
offer ourselves to the spitting rain of open jawed sky.
when was the last time the world felt enough
for the bloody teeth in your heart. Those teeth that pump
unwitting madness biting & grinding despite decay―
oh if this isn’t enjambment then what is.
I confess I’m guilty of intruding your decadence
because I too wanted to share wildly
in the mystique of its unraveling.
How else could have I known
where my howling rims intersect yours.
In the chaotic stir of sleeping eyes
overlapping dreams blazoned across brows―
how often do we see each other
how often do we squirm
from every ouch wriggling inside every touch.
This life feels like ( how do I even say )
oh feels like such wordlessness.
I recount details of your face right after closing my eyes―
it’s the most I can do to delay the mind’s greater troubles.
Just once I’d like to walk along
the perils of your desire
to understand in primal form the difference
between your fire & mine.
See it’s only on the stitches of your seams
that I can invoke the dance of my animal flame.
& all that is left of the sooty air―
our skinfuls of chests & mouths will embrace in hunger
molten & so so bare.
satisfaction of detection. So often I recognize
what I truly feel when I see someone else
In fact, you could look at anybody
and call them a mirror with a bespoke magnitude
of tint. To all the people I’ve ever loved,
I want to say―
I’ve never understood the meaning of I miss you.
At best, aided by the conspiracy of design,
I could only miss the version of me
being around you could gild.
Once, I humped a teddy bear on a dare
for the gladdest audience I have ever seen.
Despite ranking amongst the most luminous
moments of my life, it never amounted to much.
So random are these synapses
that I can never tell the points of inflection
in my bristling mutation― from kid to person
to animal. On touching someone I like,
I find the mystery of manifestation is unmistakable.
Oh, how we dive into waves through blankets and planes
leaving cities like monuments that walked away
from the burgundy dust of heritage.
Now the ease with which I invent a pimple
on my upper lip from the night’s muggy sleep
is the same ease with which I dog-ear every notebook
that graces my clotting ink.
In the miasma of correlations
life is, I sift through books, through bodies
feasting on spillages from cells that decided
to shake off their rust.
Come, look at me occupying a silhouette of hinges
moving relentlessly to quench a spirit’s spatial thirst.
The history of intelligence tells us the mind is
feather upon stone upon feather, gentle heap
of madness floating on time’s faint broth.
Here in cumulated hues, I find I’m terribly
attracted to livingness. Leaning forward,
I can’t help become the crescendo of my breath.
*The word juggernaut comes from Lord Jagannath, a form of Vishnu, annually drawn on an enormous cart at Puri in Odisha under whose wheels devotees apocryphally allowed themselves to be crushed in sacrifice.
Satya Dash‘s poems have been published or are forthcoming in Passages North, Cosmonauts Avenue, The Florida Review, Pidgeonholes, Glass Poetry, Prelude amongst others. Apart from having a degree in electronics from BITS Pilani-Goa, he has been a cricket commentator too. His work has been twice nominated for the Orison Anthology. He spent his early years in Odisha, India and now lives in Bangalore. He tweets at @satya043.