Parallel Poems

old city sewer—
you too can be the centre
of an empire

penal colony—
a mezzo-soprano sings
with deep conviction

real or royal
a triple-peaked hill
spears the heart

I am a camera
bidding goodbye to Berlin
—cabaret night

from Robben Island
a white tablecloth lies draped
over apartheid

blossom clouds—
do the bells sound from Edo
or Tokyo?

Moscow—
a metonymy
of means

river of grace—
blessed are the favelas
under outstretched arms

mirroring

a blow
by blow

it's self a leaf

analysis

in freefall

of the west wind

a pyre crafted

myth-making erupts

of old poems
en-kindling

from the rag
and bone shop

a storm shelter

of the hardened
heart

a blacksmith

tender shoots

hammers out
the hard edges

of long buried
psalms

of kindness

en-chant me