Buoy the population of the soul
Toward their destination before they drown
~ Robert Pinsky
March 2024
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Friday, 29. October 2004


From trackless paths of the seas I have come searching For the comet that must have Fallen to ground Somewhere on this shore.

Skin flecked with salt, muscles Covered with barnacles I have seen kings being burnt On their way to warrior heaven Above me. Secrets of the reefs, Sunk ships have settled In the creases of my skin.

Now I am neither man nor matter, I have become a seeker Wandering for signs, signals, Rumors, news, markers. I call her Nayantara As the ancients still remember her: Woman with a body of shells, Whose flower births aromas.

The starry eyed one, Who set my life adrift On ships of spinning clocks! Friend, have you heard, Even second hand or third, News of that corolla of light?


After watching a corny movie Don Juan De Marco again (Why do I watch it if it is corny? Why do people drink? Why do people smoke?), for the fourth or fifth time, some words arose in memory. Words attached to my history, to past loves, and history yet to be born, loves yet to be celebrated, yet lived through. This woman, that these words blossom around (who as Nikos points outs in his brilliant ‘The Last Temptation of Christ’ is just another aspect of the Universal Woman) then requires to be named, albeit temporarily. And tonight I call her ‘Nayantara’, very literally ‘Eyestar’. And for her, I hang this poem in this moonlight sky, so she that may find it, a crude flag, and know I exist.

My Poems

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Can I know the name of the poet who wrote the poem titled 'Nayantara'?

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