because we have so many things still
to be done,
we have lost our sense of time
the capacity to grow affections
have become nil, in fact, shrinking
like the way the speed of light twice
its speed has shrunk my eyes into
a mongo bean
my heart now a tiny part of a
red pear that hangs itself upon
a very loose talk
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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