The rivers sing the odes of the ocean, and the breeze the lullabies of the trees. The winter sun remoulds the frozen figures of the night, and the mother shapes the child with her endless love. The gentle voice and touch of a beloved fans the glowing embers of a heart, and the love ignites…
The Incoherence of Passion (an exercise in verbosity)
He is bound by chafing ropes of dichotomized society—the howling screams of history assailing his resolutions while the serenading honeyed songs of promise and hope keeps him standing on his blistered feet upon the rumbling and tremoring rock that chips away every turn of the dial against the dispassion of the infinite might of universal…
The Crashing of the Waves
I was young when I first heard the crashing of the waves replace the crashing of the plates; The smashing of the whites against the rocks, I fancied, echoed china devastated on the tiles, And the lights reflected on the broken glass, the glitters of the sun on waves as night awaits. In darkest nights,…
The Man Who Waits
I was thirteen when I first saw the man sitting lonesome at the bus stop just outside our town. He had a brown suitcase by his feet and his black woolen hat on his knees, and he looked like he was waiting for someone who would never come. The bus came late and so I…
An Odd Evening in the Bizarre Restaurant of a Peculiar Town: Curious Translation of a Queer Dream
On our way to a restaurant called L’oignon, we passed a thin tall man with a top hat on. He swung his cane and whistled a tune, and carried a bag of stars and moon. He turned our way and clapped his hands and through red teeth he smiled and said, ‘Fortune lies ahead for…
Gutter Galley 