the other
he has a lean 
and hungry look

brutal
how we come to bury
the knives

i think
therefore it is
light at last

a slice each
of crunchy cucumber
on her eyes

alone
alas alack at all
a declension of nouns

coolness:
the wrinkling skin
of vision

postfixes
the lingering taste
of a death

the writing
in the tissue fold long
forgotten


A spontaneous sequence with Shrikaanth Krishnamurthy