Every day’s dawn is a gift-
Crows float on new hope

And turtles walk on hope
Under a red blister on sea.

White clouds float a hope
As  fish float on aliveness.

Dawn is gift to strangers,
Incoming waves of hope.

At a beginning of our day
A sea floats on our hope.

A sea feels lonely at night
Hums to itself in the dark.



You squat with the stone tiger
To look anonymous in crowd.

Nobody knows you in cosmos.
Now the traffic makes  bustle.

The stone tiger burns a bright
Ignoring kids riding it bravely.

Sit by stone tiger delightfully,
Anonymous in a traffic jungle.

By tiger you look anonymous
Like fish in sea nobody knows.

Clouds of smoke

I have seen through a coal smoke
In city dotted with earthen stoves.

There was a smoke reaching a sky
Like rains returning a white cloud

Well it was how  sky made its day
when sun rose behind stove fires.

Now train light broke bush in dark
And trains ate coal in their supper

And after well fed stomach of coal
They would smoke cigars into sky

Like white clouds were going back
To a sky where they first belonged.


Bear your pain a woman does
Before composing you inside.

And words formed at fingers
At the end of long navel rope.

Words are now decomposed
As if you are back in woman.

You babble words ceaselessly
Decomposing the dark inside

Speaking to darkness outside.
Bear pain like a woman does,

In a darkness above the room
Beyond borders of existence.

(Phillip Booth’s poem “Like a woman” hints an awareness of the onset of Alzheimer’s disease in himself from which he would die later)

Murder of crows on phone wires

There was a murder of crows
On phone wires of yesterday.

We are merely naming crows,
Not in terms of any emotions.

The crows have funerals when
They are in the best of blacks.

They peck at the dead turtles
Since they have no emotions.

A sea has no emotions either.
But we are only naming crows.

(Crows live in a group called “murder“)