1 the goose is putting its signature
on the plume detaching from its tail
the queue is overflowed with crowd
...
making my friendship with the water-pigeon does not mean
that i’ve acknowledged all devotion of the land-lotuses to river
without putting any note of dissent
...
your body
that’s fond of tv-soap
with its un-worldly moonlight and worldly tricks and posterings
...
far from the centre-stage
production is going on
of many street-dramas
on handling the characters in them
...
the sleep is sleepless
in this hot-sea-shore
that’s my only guardian
...
playing on the raw-coal
the under-clothes of the airhostesses
continue to sing a song
...
all on a sudden
one day again
i face the isabgool
...
for her
who looks most beautiful in red orna
i’m carrying the best wishes of those lilies
blooming on the iron-grill
...
then
owing to the pollen-grains
i can’t become a good goal-keeper
...
Who’s won the muddy-battle
Was yesterday’s politics
My addiction is, actually, to cater
The pouch of love
...