Under the highway, as traffic rumbles upon its route along one of the main arteries of the city, I sit. Removed from the constant motion above, relinquishing the necessity to move towards an indeterminate destination, I listen. Watching; shadows appear and vanish between pillars, daylight casts late afternoon tones. A hundred meters away waters continue upon their constant quest to find the ocean. Beyond them the city resumes, a wall of concrete and a conglomeration of bridges as the Keelung river bends leading off towards Songshan. Continue reading “Urban”
from the boat we watch the city pale, fading into pastel tones, the shadows of dusk. Lights begin to flicker upon the shoreline. On the water candles floating downstream in their evening ceremony; wishes cast upon the sacred waters, flowing in groups or solitude between us and the ghats.
Shadows upon steps, brief sparking flames; splashing oars and silhouettes captured upon the dimming of the day. Soon lights defined the buildings, flicker upon the shoreline, continue, rippled, upon the water their reflections paused and breaking upon the evening traffic, and continue.
Further again the flames of the burning ghats, their endless fires casting smoke upon the passing breezes. The eternal city. This place cast fluid upon the passing of time, timeless and ethereal where we become brief shadows flickering upon the waters, winding through the alleys, the fading self in the shadows of this timeless place.
Tonight the rain.
Earlier a brief rainbow, rising spectral above 101, too vague for film or sensor but bright enough for the elusive eye.
Traffic sprinkles colour upon road and splashes onto pavement – a mother pushes a bike carrying a child, with a blue umbrella, perched sidesaddle upon it.
In the shadows between streetlights and traffic, carriers push their trolleys laden with waste towards payment as buses transport others homeward or towards a lateshift. Continue reading “Hogmany”
Eyes unfocus on familiarity,
where voices slur like passing trains,
here simple words are apt to stray
and John Barleycorn still reigns. Continue reading “drinking song”
Through kirkyaird shadows something crawls
and fae its vaccuum, “freedom” calls
although its darkening voice builds walls
man darenae think here for himself
his benmaist braith rots on a shelf,
totalitarian, by stealth,
the new decree.
That intellect to myth falls prey Continue reading “referendum blues”
This, the last day of the possible,
stumbles into itself:
sounds upon peripheries,
scents lingering upon the breeze,
transient, shapes form
until disbelief and uncertainty
in the amber
of an autumnal sun.
Vagrant stanzas stutter Continue reading “vagrant stanzas”
Another night in an airport, coffee fuelled, insomniac, my head restless upon rucksack, awaiting the first metro. The hours crawl upon the functional sterility of the concourse; all night coffee shops offering comfortable chairs for the price of a cup, and, beyond, the gun guarded exits. A dystopian doorway, an airlock between worlds, (the organic city and this artificial place upon its edge); another step upon the way back to Varanasi. Here, under the passing gazes and occasional smiles of security, the slow night passes. Outside, winter hangs upon the concrete, forms mists upon the rising breath of each temporary congregation, waiting, as taxis shuffle between the airport and the city. Continue reading “Delhi, early morning”
Today words should burn,
trail scented ink to scrawl
charred phrases where oceans churn
and remnant echoes fall
beyond the spectrum of our eyes –
let dissolution claim the wise. Continue reading “a burning”
This morning the sun rose upon the three waters. Expectation, a woven memory of solitude and calm, I walked through the remnants of the place I’d known, towards the ghats. Stumbling through the first stirrings of stallkeepers around the market, only half aware of them as past and present become a fluid thing; a plasma mixing and merging the senses until there was no difference to be felt. Unless it be on the periphery.
Down to the harbour, through the bleary halflight of the alleys. Down to the harbour, through the temple. Fifteen years ago I made the same journey: another self, drifting uncharted between the tidepools of some hippy dream. Continue reading “Kanyakumari”