in sleep
my lungs are trees
growing
more leaves
my hands are branches
bearing ripe fruits
my feet are roots
sucking nutrients
from my soiled
bed
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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