Monday, March 26, 2007

In these words, in the space between keyed letters and wavy white between lines, micro glimpses of a life slip out from the tight grasp of polished form and gleaming grammar. All the ironing. No heating, and a snow drift outside. Suddenly, something.
So will the present find its space; unbidden, someplace.

8 comments:

GhostOfTomJoad said...

Wow! That's really nice. All well though, I hope.

austere said...

Yes, Mr Ghost.
One of the most obtuse posts I've ever written, imho.
yet.

Proxima said...

There you go treading in the deep waters again. I could throw you a line, but I never know when it will end up as a noose.

-P

austere said...

you're fine just being there, proxima. :)

Cherie! said...

Lovely. I hope it will be in verse.

austere said...

prose, probably.verse is scary.
but thanks.

Sathya said...

Hi Aust,

All of it went overhead :(

and btw am reading Mumbai Maximum city... reached somewhere near the middle...and I must say Mumbai is quit a scary place...

austere said...

sathya... you are reading max city??? WHY?
oh hell. Dont want you to read about Monalisa Patel's breakdown. or the encounters. hell. the first week we moved here there was an encounter right outside my office.
maybe intersperse with something light?