Your Porcelain Doll

You ignore me with a purpose Believing that a cloud of unknowing Will soon set in between us And all will be professional, and knowing Like how a plastic doll knows another plastic doll Let us make a compromise. You be as beautiful as you are Take me as your porcelain doll And...

Keeping Your Shoes Clean

What if I look straight on While you look at me As we pass by And your heart leaps And catches my shirt button Do you think I would hold it carefully And put it in my pocket, forever mine? Or would I let it fall in my wake, And step away from it, to keep my shoes clean Like you...

Only That

When it comes to a woman
You are only what she accords you
Framed in her silence,
Only that.
And if you are offended by this
Then you are not madly in crush with her
Fix this first.

Rainy night. Sometime in 1989. Our “Book of Saturday.”

Was it November? Heaps of cigarette ash in the tray. Who would believe If I tell them now, How we had internalized This song already by then. How we had the world in our fists already then, How our fingers were crazy already by then, And how we were Kings then, Our quiet...

This is death. Don’t Waste it.

Why talk of the unknowability of death? Nonsense. Let me tell you what death is. She will never think of you. Not out of spite, Nor because she doesn’t want to. While your body is cremated You let your heart burn first, And keep your eyes open Waiting in vain To see her...

... and the rest

Why A New Publishing Company?

Saaranga Books.
“Perhaps being in one’s own homeland shapes everything. By this I mean that being an immigrant also shapes everything.”
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