this summer time the leaves
fall off from the trees
and we rake these dead leaves
and make heaps out of them
and then we burn them and we
sit on the patio seeing the smoke
rising to the sky.
and each of us keep on thinking
it is good.
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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