 |
| Kushal Poddar |
The eye and the visuals
A glimpse of the blood vessels
behind the pane can be seen
when the curtain's lid rises.
Half of the moon wears clarity.
In this light how do the window see me? Do I look like a top heavy,
head first triangle? How does it
know what it sees is verity?
Rain paints a backdrop for the lone
rare tree frog on the window's ledge.
It sits too near, outside the vision field.
In this light it is a noise. I open my
umbrella. It blooms its noir petals.
The window can notice the shapes
moving in the street, although
its entirety is penumbric. The eye
of the house blinks. The rain burns it
a little. Beneath the cascade brief dreams
spawns more brief dreams. Perhaps
one builds a memory of me, and one
makes me dust. The frog remains in both -
No comments :
Post a Comment
We welcome your comments related to the article and the topic being discussed. We expect the comments to be courteous, and respectful of the author and other commenters. Setu reserves the right to moderate, remove or reject comments that contain foul language, insult, hatred, personal information or indicate bad intention. The views expressed in comments reflect those of the commenter, not the official views of the Setu editorial board. рдк्рд░рдХाрд╢िрдд рд░рдЪрдиा рд╕े рд╕рдо्рдмंрдзिрдд рд╢ाрд▓ीрди рд╕рдо्рд╡ाрдж рдХा рд╕्рд╡ाрдЧрдд рд╣ै।