Sitaram
kickbox
I wish,
As a fish,
That I could drift
Through colored planes
Of sun-soaked seas,
And sift their names
Warm yellow, red,
Cool blue, calm violet stains,
Between my fins and, lifting, know
That only touching me would be
Soft flowing currents,
Flourishes of green all feathery,
Drinking in with tinkling breaths,
Strains of simplest death,
Their clear veins sinking down
To clean, brown sand
And, muffled, sound,
Brown and brown and brown,
The colorless dead with only the chiming
Tendrils, red and yellow climbing,
Upwards, up through planes of color,
Cool blue, calm violet refrains.
And touching me would only be
These things, to drift,
Drift as a fish,
I wish.
- Sitaram
(written Saturday 11:00pm, May 28, 1966)
As a fish,
That I could drift
Through colored planes
Of sun-soaked seas,
And sift their names
Warm yellow, red,
Cool blue, calm violet stains,
Between my fins and, lifting, know
That only touching me would be
Soft flowing currents,
Flourishes of green all feathery,
Drinking in with tinkling breaths,
Strains of simplest death,
Their clear veins sinking down
To clean, brown sand
And, muffled, sound,
Brown and brown and brown,
The colorless dead with only the chiming
Tendrils, red and yellow climbing,
Upwards, up through planes of color,
Cool blue, calm violet refrains.
And touching me would only be
These things, to drift,
Drift as a fish,
I wish.
- Sitaram
(written Saturday 11:00pm, May 28, 1966)