Lie Down

As far as the fish peers,

I live on your land,

On your grain, 

And under your protection.

I must work,

and dance for as long as the clothes need to dry off.

The lantern coolly blows by the side of her eye

to speak, blending patterned faces in wood.

I must not taste different or bitter,

I must concede to palettes and treatment.

I must eat,

What is doused in hot waves and splashes,

In which I found besmirched posters crying,

‘Loyalty’.

Damp tablecloths hung on tepid hearts,

Pomp and

roars the gut,

Tipping in liminal urgency.

Does Punjab need poets, or water, or workers?

The elephant smiles on the crossbow,

Keychains, Clicks of the register, quays by the pinks of her.

Agile, filliping tingles

Arid, burnt surfaces.

The clock watches the silos as the the last stack is heaped, the last house is scored, the book drawn, varnished, gutted, the first signal of the day.

Seconds watch the gardened movement of intent,

frosted, tractioned, glazed, kept

in the flux of the pondering field,

Silted mud in tiny,

soft, furtive seconds.

Surely water keeps the earth.

Scheiße-cracked it.

What’s temptation?

(Un)fortunately you have to let most things go.

Don’t get attached.

They all look so pretty

Have a hunch a lot of the artists tune into these shapes and colours to express themselves. Scientists and artists talk in waves and frequencies.

If I were being very authentic, I’m more naturally inclined to writing about and drawing life, people and the duality they reside in (within themselves and outwardly).

But perhaps, my trauma is forcing me to look deeper.

However, notes from today’s session “the future is local”

1. Don’t Believe, experience

2. Don’t consume, create

3. Don’t watch, observe

Life in hyper vision .