A Forest Path, a Stream, a Rock, a Water Snake, a Taboo ~ Sunday, May 18, 2025

Am I too daft, too dense, too dim, too dull
maybe I am not young, rich, big and strong

I am a buck to cull, am I not wrong

take me to America, as a child
only never take me back to Bombay
or Panjim, where our ancestors were born

damn me to this devilish hell, too mild
and unsavory to enjoy, too bland
for a Goan used to the spice, they say
travel son before you grow old, I scorn

their unsolicited advice, I cry
on my stained pillow, symbolic as sand
of the desert, or the seashore, I weep

diamond tears, my daimonion observes
entire rivers flow even while I sleep
never ending Amazonian curves
surface on the scales of the python, try
each day not to be venomous, a snake

trolling Lawrence and Miłosz, both in verse
ouroboros, the universe, as cold
old, agèd, Father Time, step on the brake

drive the pedal down, stop the world, I scoff
in amazement, my death, I rehearse
maybe a better man would have been bold

tragic for me, this life, nothing works out
only maybe it does, too late, get off
of the merry-go-round, circles go round

demonic suffering, opt out of pain
under the bridge flow my tears, tied fast, bound
like a sacrificial lamb, Magnus slain
like cogito ergo sum, first, I doubt