Cosmological drop

It is the way of the cosmos
the way of conspiracies
beyond belief and shoreline
certain unions have color-signature
wind and water
tree and roadway
and other moving things
blueprint the memory of a moment.

It is customary...

It is customary to say
the leaves have fallen
for lost eyes see fallen leaves.
It is customary to say
the skies are dull
for lost eyes forget blue.
It is customary to say
the sun has set
[which it frequently does]
in the manner of a news alert
for lost eyes forget direction.
It is customary to say
life was but is no longer
for lost eyes lose track of time.
But no!
There is life and breathing
sunlight and blue
leaves in tender green
all this is true
it must be said
with a footnote
raising question
though clear
a one-word end-note:
"but".

Green and Blue

There are incredible greens
and I've seen them everywhere
but nothing like those approaching Kegalle
on certain sunlight-angled mornings,
blue too
crayons and pattern
on a little girl's dress
peacocks and mountains
and blues
of music and despondency
blue of a rising tide
and an emerging sky
there are blues and greens
on color palettes
eye-straining variation
but nothing distilled
and turned into ink
like the lime green freshness
of words and silence
the turquoise blue embrace
of evening and stolen moment.

Missing voices

Missing voices
miss buses and deadlines
they walk
to lines alive
and there they stop speaking --
they sing.

Ode to waking

Frozen dawn dreams
and white night longing
trip along the boulevards
reserved for the unsanctioned
they float in a swirl of turquoise blue
laced with lime green metaphors
and I wake up with love-stained lips.

When I leave me behind

When I leave me behind
it is a ghost that drives --
a specter from a misplaced chess board
and a mantelpiece robbed of frames
wrapped in a stupor
of nutmeg and cardamon peel
bite-less discards
from hard-spice feasts,
When I leave me behind
it's skeletal fingers
that turn and thrust
in eyes-closed familiarity --
but open eyes remember
a covenant easily made
written submissions
from the templates of the dead,
for here's consolation
in vacancy and an empty sky
such canvasses are rare
and a lifetime too short
to encrypt for love yet unborn
the cadences of the undying..

Beyondness

Beyond the deep blue of Dolu Kanda
and its unyielding secrets
the herbal texts and undecipherable inscriptions
beyond the intersection of margin and error
the un-inked slippages of memory
beyond jammed doors, watered balconies
and green lights disguised in red
beyond white nights and freezing dawn
the dismantling of clocks
and the crowning of the timeless
beyond never and forever
and rose-apple cheeks
there's a word seeking translation
languages uninvented
and the dreamy territories
and the happily lost.