flower for me and we will rule the grey: dismantling barbarism
Tag: poetry
the autumn bees and sounds of construction share a similar buzz
always there: a pale handprint on a beam of light
why play god when the rain knows its shape
a mild morning equally divided between lethargy, grey tendrils and the stuttering light
blades of grass defend a tiny dew pond: protect your quiet
strange times on the subway: hackles up and alert
sparrows gather at the coffee table: someone pleasant approaches
sleep under the open sky where clouds resemble symbols of our old ways
the old gods never did talk much but considered every space in existence sacred
elancharan gunasekaran 