Museum of thing
you can look, distance please
you shan’t touch
you keep it there
unscathed

Library of thing
you can touch, ever so timely
you shan’t own
you bring it back
having seen better days

Shop of thing
you can own, exchange really
you shan’t return
you stay away
made to decay

Then there is that
there, out of reach
unknown actually
coveted

Thing: the three preons
into human existence
and a fourth as if a prion
folded to rule them all

                —animasuri’24

Coastal walks
chew raw greens
handpicked from dunes
feet trampled trampling wind

prickly saltwort
weeding turtles trampoline
and sharp sheaths of grass
brambly nostrils sand grains grit

There she laid, there she went
There she ran off, there she slid
along the warm dune’s thighs
onto the edges of seas and shells

salty memories
slip between fingers
of walks sensual burning to soda ash
as bourbon on the rocks, ’n’ waves breaking

coastal walks
as printing eroding eroticas
yielding salty tastes:
I love you dear.

                 —animasuri’24

Schadenfreude,
that fortitude towards suffering of others
that ode from vice to virtue

sliding off a smile
as butter on toast, as cheap analogy
regurgitating references with laughter perverted

Schadenfreude,
that ultimate copy paste
that medicine by hypocritical ode to care

slipping from unspeakable tragedy
into resounding laughter as echoes of pain to come
hiding existential fear roaring in a smile, a giggle even

Schadenfreude,
that pleasure pleasing plethora
that spitting over pops of held back cackles

gliding glee in layered voicing
as compassion lost for a moment
in that actuality

of an event abstracted
into a felled model
of human staggery.

                                —animasuri’24

The transition
to when it is
from wanted to be
is just that: never stilled

there is no port, no exit gate
no hallway ended onto a sofa home
gentle soft furry teddy bear like arrival: none

there is much convincing
petting, and sensualizing
pep, hype, and bravado

noise then is a musky mist
edging the breathtaking vista
at the edge of a cliff

or engulfing the entrance
onto a path, into a journey
into a metaphor of must demyst

into that soothing to trance
into life
in and to

—aninasuri’24

Not each interruption of movement
is a willful act onto trajectory or orbit
while with each willful act
comes an altering of movement

as an eruption of consciousness
unaware of every consequence
of the interruption caused by the act

and yet is dizziness a material affect?
is dizziness that sensation of movement
moments following desisting swirl of twist

in fiber, liquid and gas:
in muscle, ear and lung dizziness waving,
radiating intensifying attenuating
through linearized enveloping of whirling:

take a circle and spin a sinusoidal cycle fading
to peak, sustain, release
and slowly decay

Ah, if you may,
be that spinning child
twirling on this summer’s day.

                            —animasuri’24

The rain, the wind, the sun, the light
if words not evoking precipitated distancing,
radiating erosions of boundaries

not if by a consciousness tempered
and yet by evocation condensing
walls of awareness embraced dissolving

I recall I can choose to let them cascade
let them trickle let them demand let them cloud, let them form judgements as forecasts

resulting in photosynthesis
of iterations of the same umbilicals
to shelter, shelter, a shelter: umbra

or let those I label, those I narrate
be out there be in here
be part of be joining: engulfing be coming

trickling storms transmit twinkles
dropping reflections, joints of air ‘n’ soil
knees of pain as calls to kneel and press on

I weather in wee wind rings of rain
together training shadows and rays of Sun
bathing a son from shadowy corners into reign

I inhabit:
I open positive space
I am heathen

                         —animasuri’24

In deed we do
undoubtably undoubtedly
indubitably: it is what was done

in dubiousness, a subdued tautology
an act kept dark, its whisper muffled
any accompaniment of talk: muted

transparency is demanded of intelligence
not of anything else:
so act, don’t think

of signals related, if process debated across
media, time, space:
information as dark matter

distracting attention to light, by light
by glitter, by color, by bling, by might
cushioning back alley dealings: egos only

corridor connections
and bathroom warnings
suggesting: wash off guilt

redistribution of gains constraining chains
to access, to cognition related, to thought automated
presumed delegated: pure self

act managed, while managing acts
mixed into the toxic toner
of the peaceful printing press: tacit mess

We have agency, no nonsense
look here, go there, do that:
we have

we have: our zippers up.

—animasuri’24

Because because is such a quaint word
by reason of interest being
but a table cloth
for dinners with friends at philosophy circles

Hence book fixations in price and binding
tickle nostrils of leather, stitching,
green cloth and paper glue
training trusted upon by memories draining

There lies a book of laughter on mid-summer
as one’s waking is an other’s night’s dream of Walcott
and poetic note taking
of said non-seasons and the likes

gently hearing that chain-link fence
as a museum ornament around the gathering
of being on the fence, fencing off advances,
fancy a drink in polite company

Circles drain
the likes of seasoned polite company
into frantically composed collecting
points of common interest, just because

just by reason books are fixed until mended.

                           —animasuri’24

Triggers

Dr.WSA. (2024, June 21). fyi because you seemed to be … online: email. And, thank you.

M.C. (2024, June 21). The price isn’t right. Fixing books’ prices, Michael Rosen’s illustrators, J. R. Ackerley’s prize. Online: Times Literary Supplement (TLS). https://www.the-tls.co.uk/regular-features/nb/the-price-isnt-right/