Par |2019-02-16T10:34:47+00:00 10 septembre 2012|Catégories : Blog|



There are times
when form resists touch,
refuses to yield
to coer­cion or com­mand –
an obs­ti­nate conspi­ra­cy
bet­ween self-per­pe­tua­ting
cof­fee cups and the fran­tic
bush­fire of books, laun­dry, Chinese res­tau­rants,

and eve­ryw­here
the great Indian middle class
bloa­ting stea­di­ly
on duty-free.

A rabid wil­der­ness
of mat­ter slurps
up absences, ran­sacks space,
an insurgent car­dio­gram
                                        ser­ra­ting the sky­line,
                                                                         eclip­sing the moon.

This is the end of the world
you should have anti­ci­pa­ted –

the uns­top­pable gar­ru­li­ty of things.