THERE'S NO GRACE

Dusk is doomed
when I shovel light
in darkness

fail to live
the intensity
of prayer

moistened yes
draw me near divine
for a while

soul is light
and flowers and wings
furl in moon

but soon pain
overwhelms my space
and tears swell

fingers feel
the decaying fireflies
in lamplight

voice turns blue
I scare my vision
there's no grace


--R.K.SINGH

TOUCH ME NOT

Her fingers push
the roots into the earth-
touch-me-not


--R.K.SINGH

BUS RIDE

Neighbors listening
to headphones or reading books--
bus ride on sabbath


--R.K.SINGH

KHADDAR ARMS

Man is an animal
with a peculiar smell
says Bertolt Brecht:

he smells a rotten rat
as he waves his khaddar arms
with fake smile


--R.K.SINGH