seasoning

Origin

Freak out to nature's call,

Crawl between legs, any legs and hide.

It's your birthday, they said.

But then you should be coming out from between legs, not crawling back in.

Are you upside down?

keyholes

You obviously can’t wait to get there. Once you’re there, there’s nowhere to go to except come back.
You drive there super fast because the curiosity is killing you.
You drive back super slow because now you’ve seen it all.
It pays to start things slowly, to wait till it builds up, to watch is carefully while it grows. On the other hand, waiting for it to come to you while you already have a thousand theories in your head about what it’s going to be like is terminal.

I choose the boring journey back over the death by curiosity, thank you very much.

The absurdest of things make perfect sense in the bathroom.

Your shower is an umbrella that rains. Inside you will find the first raindrops, leaking out of a tired mouth.
Pick out a toothbrush, any you like, and brush finely, and there still will be molecules of toothpaste that have remained since the last time you brushed. Mmm. Tastes oddly sweet. Must consider this for dessert.
Picking up your feet carefully off the ground, you sometimes wait till all the rain has soaked into the ground before you place your foot forward. That's very sensitive. We all have groundwater issues, don't we?
Heaped sand in corners looks tidy, and when it's wet it slips into the drain tries to get back to the ocean. Sweep it up clean. Let it go now. You've kept her for too long.
Oh look, fingertips are shriveled now. I told you not to soak the raisins for too long.
Th velcro towel is pulling the dreams out of my hair, and I can't do a thing.
Will my mind be empty and my head bald before I die?
Look into your shower for the last time, and hold the last drop there.

And now you want your bath back.

sit squarely on the floor and make things.

I'm making puppets,

Puppets and puppets my hands feel like making right now.

Some full of buttons, some full of beans.

Some just like that.

I don't expect you to understand.

self portrait

which me was this?

deboo, karno, necessarily in that order.

newspaper time-out.

dregs

Edit

Dregs

by Ishita Dharap on Monday, 27 September 2010 at 23:30

Empty, beggar, empty

And his knees are lost

And he's lost his salt

And the emptiness

He's lost that too

With the empty eyes

Which would fill with tears,

Well, he's lost those too

And the frequent fights

That would drag him here

And would bruise his calves

And would burn his blood

Well he's lost those too

Empty beggar, empty

and there'e nothing you can do

and there nothing, beggar, nothing

that emptiness can spew.

And the empty head

Of the vacant man

Filled to the brim

With empty sounds

That carried him.

Empty as skin

Empty as shell

Empty as winners

In the depths of hell

Empty, beggar, empty

For your knees are lost

And your salt is, too

spark

Some things hurt my eye.

Light in fist, gleeful eye,

old things in new skins.

New things are tired already.

Really, they have no hook at all,

nothing for me to pull harder.

So I'll let you go,

thank you very much.

Go to sleep now.

100 W

• 
  

to mirror you

without meaning to

siddharth

glint

silver pencils,

cracked shavings

stacked lightening,

cravings

april

for my darling 4'x1.5'
white,
precisely rectangular.
sun shades, mosquito net,
pale blue sheers under, dark turqoise with blue stitching over.
wind tolerant,
spider tolerant
fourteen horizontal bars, square cross section, white.
three inch sill, pale blue.
curtain rod of 2" dia. off white.
eighteen curtain rings, two discoloured.

i love you.

screenaque

I'd be a window

Ronja Rangers

matchend

matchlove

for/sleeping/eating

For now, just settle with dessert, she said. I sat on the edge of the bed, yes, watching her carefully as she spooned some into my plate.
I silently began eating.
The thought of it being old or stale never crossed my mind. Nor did that of it being poisoned. I just ate, sometimes opening my mouth to taste the air on my tongue.
The time was that I didn't spend too long on it.
Chewing fast, I finished it quickly. It was starting to get dark.
Could I leave now, I asked.
I didn't remember the taste of what i had eaten for lunch.
Sitting in the sun makes you dizzy sometimes, she said. It's dark now, i pointed out.
She nodded, turning suddenly and fixed her eyes on my eyebrows.
Go now, she said brightly, still looking at me.
And don't forget to come for dessert tomorrow.

start and stop

fame and memory
poems and celery
meaning making
footsteps and grumbling.
heterogenity
enter and exit
shame and gore
filth and riches
froth and barnacles
Jeeves and I
Polly and Sue
sequins ans sequoias
memphis and heartbreak
travel and fungus
dithering and blubblering
shankar and meera
beeps and yucks
shambles and dancing
meanings and monkeying
uniform loudness.
Hurt and laughing
jeering and kissing
spikes are hard
heels are soft.
fast and doleful
many and many
mottled brows,
furrowed in grief.
keep this safe.
let me know.
whining madly
loving madder
yap and snap
chip and stack
oppose and deny
lame and throw
hunger and famish
fabricated and issued
kindled for, cared for.
stuck along. grabbed a bite.
saved a goal. run a race.
sweep and break
flit and fame
from and for
ever again, never after.
pointless sounds
noismaking benefits
taxes and shutters
breathing largly
undulating body
rain in crevices
sleet and sleep.
finish and exit.

d'ou venons nous? que sommes nous? ou allons nous?

Paul Gauguin, you are my June.
your painting gives off heat that mirrors the wooden floor.
If you seeked a society that was more elementary, I think I found it for you,
here, in your painting.

How many roads are there to simplicity that you looked for?
The human web caught you too,
you too became a victim.

Paintings have no choice but to survive the artist;
the people you froze in this frame would never know
if you found what you came here looking for.



Ishita
Tahiti, june 2010

meaning

so much to learn from.
so much to yearn for.


and to behave in an orderly manner under these circumstances is just unhealthy.

for saurabh, my guitarboy.

lazy evenings and a bottle of strings

double reel adoration

all but the last one only seem interested in what's happening on my right.

packing for the summer

i'll take mangoes, i think.
three crates full, not one less.
yellow curtains, no, maybe blue ones.
footwear, three pairs.
one nice one, two everyday ones.
some photo film. you never know.
i might end up using it.
summertime. what else do i need?

my bags are packed.

down with Birangi

when you use only the pointed colourpencils in your box regardless of which one it is, you get this.

kites

super-high, rattling the breeze
holding it in his fist
shaking it to bits.
the wind is right.
he opens his hand.
lets out the animal
on a leash it dances
as far as it can
straining against the pull.
the wind picks up
eager in its game
to tease.
glass string pops.
the wind dies.

hug

april

some say they heard rainbows.

sidebeard

savithri

last-course-fish

hamsa

gauri

Oneironaut

Sugar and white paper,
all non-gravitational.
When the crystals float upto the white window
is when they appear behind my eyelids.

In the middle of the highway
or freeway, wherever you think you are, you will open your eyes,
and i mine.
and we'll hold hands in the window

groundwater

the truth will triumph

untitled

sun-slice eclipse

his moon rose far beyond the stretch of your eyes; you never saw just how far it could go.