Elancharan இளஞ்சேரன்

empty side of bed time slows and the world burns

after the dream feels like a blizzard storm inside my head

dreams of fighting off tentacled creatures with Rambo’s knife in a sub tropical setting what more could i ask for?

the winter moon hires a substitute: a pale animal that grunts in the language of tides

flow as the winds and seas this day words foam and froth

names are the bane of night we go by the feel and touch of skin

even the coastal pyre dreams of misadventure fires playfully leaping into the wind and catching unguarded sails of oarships by surprise

holiness spreads underground as pilgrims prostrate and bury their heads in dirt

winter at dawn the lethargy of damp earth creeps into bones

what power is like you ask: it refuses to share its leash