In this country, barbers are more important than doctors or physicists. 7 out of 16 presidents were either barbers or came from families that owned salons. Here, the barber has no time for chitchat, to ask after your garden

Water’s malleable metaphor takes the colour of varied emotional states. It can be ocean, river, storm, calm lake, source and dried pond of love; tsunami, flood and blizzard of cruelty, dew and liquid light of transcendence, damned estuary of eco

Yesterday afternoon, as the car swept round the highway, the green sea, shone mint-like at me, from the left window, then the right, and then again the left, till we had moved so far, that only tar sailed till the

  Things don’t fit no matter how hard you split The tongue of calcified speech upon the rider’s beach The sun beams drift, shedding gold in bits Slowly, in a fleet, shy away into sleep Things don’t sleep, so full

  That night like glad children we made a castle out of stories, Etched places in the carousel of dreams and ate idlis Three black dots in strobes of four, our car rode on and off Highways drenched with winter

It is customary that I must stretch my legs wide across the fields of night, and make empty furrows till dawn. You are not there. The flesh of dawn rouses the precipices of my fingers, I catch thumbprints of clouds

  She called herself London On that day She fell from the sky Child of apple blossoms  —      Catman Cohen Regardless of queen and country Regardless of the throes of Scottish dissent Neanderthal spirits Drink the Thames to slush every