After Your Departure
Elevator mirrors and subway panes still
contain the glassy tinkle of your laughter.
But missing your petite pianist hands, I twist
in my palms, this slightest whimper of words.
Note: Written somewhere between Kipling Station and St. George Station of the Toronto Subway, while reading, half-heartedly (the other half then being on a jet-plane) Michael Ondaatje's latest novel "Divisadero"; yes, I bought it, and yes it is good.
My Poems
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As Suggested By The Calculations Of Copernicus - Jason Guriel
This first kiss on this cold street
could have jailed Galileo
for the heavenly point it proves
but tonight, merely moves
our two souls into steady revolution
around and about the warm fixed fact
of our brilliant lips.
Note: N pointed to me this poem in a Toronto subway carriage on Friday night as we were returning drunk and high on the Raga Bhoop and Shivranjani, as explored on the santoor and the tabla by Shiv Kumar Sharma and Zakir Hussain. I immediately Google-d it on return to my room but couldn't find its trace. N, however, suggested that it would show up again on the subway when I ride it next.
And her prophesy came true the very next afternoon when we found ourselves taking the subway to go see the painting exhibit of a Canadian wild woman at the AGO. This time I made a point to quickly scribble the poem down - thankfully it was a short poem for we only had two subway stops between our origin and destination.
Big Book Of Poetry
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