Early morning, aroma of roasted beans
Five fallen banana petals gathered in their crosshatched
whorl, a mandala reset as blessing
at the entrance to our house, then the roundabout
walk into town and back, past the corner
jetty of garbage, armpits of garbage.
Above the archipelagos of garbage, a host of dead seagulls
far inland. Step after step is its own reward.
The few trees that remain work overtime, troubled arms
bent with the weight. Down the stone steps
to the dragon spout, mud-grimed trash, and face up,
a rain-soaked teddy bear. Bars, barbed wire,
piled rubble, a hidden Ganesh rises from hand-shaped stone.
Beneath a saw’s staccato rumination, an offbeat
chorus of teacher and student. In the sour bitten air,
tiny reclusive flowers open. Brick, rebar,
porous cement, a glimpse of paddy and bamboo long gone.
Sawhorses block the street to the embassy
Riot police strung out in force to forestall phantom protest
Snowflakes of burnt garbage litter the air
Singed flesh tattooed with letters
Beads gouged from discarded bones
lie stacked in vaults. Behind the high spear-tipped gates,
heart-beats confiscated on arrival,
the names of the dead ringed in with a wall of fire
At the border crossing
souls pile up. Between this life and the next
the long march begins
Long after the crickets swallow the dark,
cutting through bone and skull, vandalizing dream,
the electric saw breaks rank and runs on
past the comatose guards
knee deep, through blood soaked sludge
into everlasting night
till a wanton spark sets the interminable concourse
aflame. The hate skunked executioners
shiver as they wake
dharmapoems 