FOR NOW

The sun does still make time for now,
The dark mark its distance for now.

Red threads the streetlight’s eye,
the Monarch alights on the sill for now.

The skies are suddenly crowded;
people hide and are taken ill for now.

Far below on patterned earth
A plane is a shadow on the hill for now.

You dreamt of us in a crash
But love me you did and will for now.

MY EYES HURT

No book to blow the mind, my eyes hurt.
No payoff in the drugs, my eyes hurt.

Parents say I’m a failure, my eyes hurt.
I say I’m a failure, my eyes hurt.

Diesel in my face, my eyes hurt.
Trucker could have killed me, my eyes hurt.

Tamil on the streets, my eyes hurt.
How lovely I can hear it, my eyes hurt.

The room is bleached of colour, my eyes hurt.
No wind moves in the curtain, my eyes hurt.

Too hot to love the flesh, my eyes hurt.
Too near to know the truth, my eyes hurt.

Then I long for you, my eyes hurt.
How easy it is, my eyes hurt.

LOOKING FOR LOVE

I am magnifying my way through Archie comics, looking for love.
I am ten foot tall, looking for love.
I am wandering through Europe, looking for love.
I am stumbling on America, looking for love.
I am experimenting in Antarctica, looking for love.
I am driving through Africa, looking for love.
I am inward in India, looking for love.
I am at the beach, dreaming of my grandfather.

ART IN INDIA

Art in India is a cane chair
in my grandfather’s flat. He’d
sit it out at the top of the steps
and watch the sea. Art in India is
things that are imported and then
made to seem as if they weren’t and
things made for export and made
to seem of import, things locally
made and exquisitely disguised and
things that are assembled from
everywhere and proud of it. Art
in India is to sit and have coffee
on, a way of speaking, a person
to say it to. Once I was walking
down the road and saw Art
in India drive past. I blew
it some hard kisses and
it honk-honked a reply.