The Eliot Tree
Under the shade of the Eliot Tree
We read our verse,
We wrote our poetry,
We had buttered scones
With our Earl Grey tea
Under the shade of the Eliot Tree.
A pocket full of twine
For the hollow men
Who put down their tongues
Before they picked up their pens
Along a fable journey
To the Isle of Nowandwhen.
The first was a tinker
Who wrote with his hands
The story of a proud people
Who stole a sacred land.
The second was a sailor
Who longed for the sea.
The only place he knew
Where he could not be free.
The third was a cat
Who wrote only of birds
Greatest of the love poems
Anyone had heard.
The final traveled far
When he came alone
His verses made of silver,
His words made of stone.
A pocket full of dust
For these hollow men
Who once gave up their souls
And would do it again
To see the fabled shores
Of the Isle of Nowandwhen.
Passing
for White in America
From the dusty corners of shelves
In my mind, I watched
Hidden deep within the shadows
Allowing the thoughtless flow of momentum
To carry me to places I would never desire to go.
I watched minds of hope and promise,
Around me, break themselves along
The rocky shores of despair,
Carried heedless by the torrents of disillusionment
Until their bodies were bent and hammered
Into new shapes on the anvil of conformity
By its sheer will and oppression
Until they no longer resembled who they once were.
I watched
And I did nothing.
When they offered up their pleading arms,
Bloodied by the walls of silence
Against which their bodies and spirits had broke,
I turned and walked away into a haze of smoke . . .
. . . Into the abyss of a bottle
To never come up for air,
Decades vacant: Presumed Missing.
I turned, walked away with pretences
Arm in arm, that none of them had ever happened
Except for the instants becoming convenient
For the crucifixion of my addiction,
Knowing full well when I lifted
The chalice of self-pity to my lips
I would never qualify
Even as the thief on the left.
In the end
It was me
Who had never existed.
Descents through the Rings of Hell,
Shaped by cavernous hands releasing
Hounds of suffering to nip bloodlust
At my heels, I ran full in terror
Until my face mirrored in my grave
Haunted even that horror. I ran
Until exhausted, numb from the exertion of escape.
I became the chameleon, the wallflower
Pasted back into the corner from which I had emerged,
Making little noise, causing no dust to stir,
Fitting in, assuming the role until the mask became me
Although in my heart I always knew
Even this would carry me only so far.
I drank the angst of status, possessions,
Money, and career, bearing guilt and denial
In the silent martyrdom of the public square,
Trotting out my muse to parade my individuality,
gagging its voice should it stir
that iota of conscience.
Yet, desperation remained, leaked
From my days and oozed what little solace it could
Of salvation sought from sanctuaries between the legs of women
Until even then, in the end that stain of hollow pursuit,
Colored the shadow of one so blended in,
He had bled dry all his identity from his bones.
If I had ever lived
Now I was dead.
Dead each morning, awakened
To another mere link
In the unbroken chain of years
Still stretching outward from me, grim and sullen.
Dead each afternoon, alarmed
How the hours run a swift bitter river
Eroding time into memories and regret.
Dead each evening, lamenting
The ebb of this day was the same as the previous
And accepting the same for the next.
Dead, succumbed by the dots joined
On pages where I have never really existed
And where now I never will.
Dead, passing for white in America.
I Have No Wisdom
i have no wisdom
he said
only spare change
in my pocket
come
and i will count
the coins into
your heart
one by one
I
Took My Lust for a Walk
I needed to stretch my legs
So I took my lust for a walk.
I put him on a choke chain
And brought along the cattle prod
In case something obvious
Sent him pointing
In the wrong direction.
We had a nice time
Strolling the boulevard,
Ignoring the icy stares
When he relieved himself
On a fire hydrant
Or someone’s trite statement,
Until he saw an infatuation
Cross the street in front us.
He broke free and took off
Like a foregone conclusion.
I looked everywhere,
Asked the people I passed,
Put up a flyer or two,
But I couldn’t find him
So I went home, watched
Some TV, and caught a cold
When I fell asleep on a wet pillow.
The next morning
I heard a ruckus outside.
I found some poor woman
Trying to pull my lust
Off her misinterpreted signal.
I got out the garden hose.
This was going to get messy.
Red Monkey (Lal Bunder)
The secret that white people
don't want to hear
is that they are really pink.
Reveal to them that truth,
and they are powerless.
The day in that Banarsi alley
when I heard
the chant "Lal Bunder*"
a part of my soul
never walked again.
*Hindi
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