#14

It is snowing tonight.
The birds have gone to the cold branches to sleep.
The moon is hidden from view.
I hear Sahajiya Rasa Lila in the distance.
I am homesick.
I am the gray bird with yellow neck still pecking in the snow. 

 

asha

Pixel death

The world is advancing on me. A fly is eating my sandwich. Black eggs embedded in the pale sage are sucking away its life. I am too weak to mount an offensive. My mind is spinning backwards, slowing coming apart like a nebula unraveling in catchless dark. I feel my face, pixel by pixel, being carried off in bloodless beaks. When I speak the world looks away.



asha