Paramnesia

-Then, the years before, all of them having transpired, faded into the darkness of the space where time melts away to and remains just out of reach, like the faint glimmer, a lost refraction of light and the hope of a moment. There was that moment. A moment which became a memory, which gave life to the ghost of time’s possibility, which is what I still search for near the dawning of twilight, as the remnants of light become entertained and lost in their own games with shadows. And how should I describe it? There was laughter, and words; a […]

March 28, 2015

Contemplating a Reflection in the Lacanian Mirror

-Her face, her laughter, the scent she leaves behind as she passes Reminds, it reminds me of a reflection, a mirror, in which I was whole It is faint, having faded, a kind of linear erosion along the trajectory of many meandering steps The inflections in her voice, like a sudden gust calls to the lost embers which like stars in the crepuscular hours reawaken the traces of life in our eyes In that twilight that space between soft faded reflections and dreams Her voice is that memory she is that memory even as it fades she remains a reflection, […]

February 12, 2015

The Wind

-Like the wind’s howling, or an incantation in ancient ruins, he repeats the mantra that all is still possible. He thinks of the long winding paths of antiquity, of the nomads, of the forebearers of our civilizations, of the ancients now come and gone, of every stone placed above every stone placed before it. The adages of millions whose argon we breathe, whose dust we have swallowed, whose ideas we steal, if only to take one more step, to breathe one more breath. And all is still possible, as it’s always been, as it will always be. And the wind […]

January 26, 2015

My daughter watching Chaplin

-The night’s whispers commence, their hushed tones interspersed between the flickering orbs of the sky, the autumnal breath of the earth, and the scattering leaves. She sits there, my daughter, in the way Mithra sat under the Banyan tree; or Gilgamesh, Siddhartha, or even Jesus in a different iteration. She sits there, in that same form of mindful meditation, under a white stucco sky, its small protrusions, refracting the light of flickering images. The story unfolds in her eyes, as it does in her heart; a child acts in defense of the love its known, against the intrusions of the […]

October 20, 2014

Ether

-We walk away from each other, in the dust cover of night fall, as the stellar sediment of millions of once resplendent bodies of the universe enter the atmosphere, as the myriad possibilities that exist in one gyration of this celestial body, this earth, move to become just out of reach, into the ether of a diminished day.

September 27, 2014

A moment of magic

-There were words. Between them, there were words. There was laughter too. A certain magic almost drew them together. But after the words had grown silent, and the laughter had abandoned its ricochets, they exited from doors at opposite ends of the café, where they had, respectively, spent their night watching the world perform.

September 15, 2014

Dusk

-In the moments before dusk, the darkness before all shadows surrender to the sun, he woke, her warmth still clinging to the pillow, her scent transcending the dream and lingering; he tightened his arms around that pillow, attempting to smother the heartache of absence, the lost hope of ever finding her.

August 8, 2014

Trinket

– It was a kiss that saved her life. She would have never imagined such a thing was possible. There are few who would admit to believing in such a thing occurring. But it did. It did save her life. And it was a kiss, in some way. This light we have to see by is always shifting, as is the slippery nature of names. Such that when she was given this kiss, she would not have identified it as such. But he did. When he placed it in her palm and gently bent her fingers over it. He looked […]

July 9, 2014

Unique

– She was pregnant, at least, that’s what she said in the message she left you. Your immediate response, logically, was to add up the weeks since you last saw her, or more accurately, since you last copulated. She was the one who would always use euphemisms. She always hoped you would ‘make love,’ ‘dance in the sheets,’ ‘dance in the nude,’ or ‘join your bodies as one.’ To you, it was always just sex. Sometimes you wanted her more, sometimes you wanted her less. Sex, you always wanted about the same. You’d humor her. When she’d call it making […]

June 29, 2014

Last Strophe

-They swirl round in my consciousness, the fragments of the words I’ve been meaning to gather for you, and of the phrases I should have conjured. And every sound I should have whispered in the silences, when you were near. Each moment is transformed by diction; all creation was formed in such a way. A phrase initiated everything. The reason you and I stand, found ourselves, for a moment, in the kind of proximity which causes hearts to syncopate. Words, phrases, and the remnants of those moments inundate the synapses of consciousness, my consciousness. My heart loses its own cadence […]

June 29, 2014