Film, Art & Design – Bharat Sarwaiya
18 Mar 99 | Mix
Puffed, green leaf mosquito, rusting loudspeaker fins tailing over my eyebrows…
ringing red in your empty, rainy shed of clumsy dreams.
A silent little walk with skeletons left behind;
mustard gesturing trees in folding beautiful arms over me,
with flowers from inside of the resting coffins.
Wet brick red street, reflecting gray little clouds,
white school trees,
empty music box picture mobiles hurled up the ground above…
mixing with sleepy fumes.
Sleek strings of a blouse, unbuttoned shirt,
drying fan… with all wet men below …
reviewing your references.
16 Mar 99 | Measurements: Darkening layer of wax
Dark shuttle discolored whitening eyeballs with unfortunate syllabus of wordless game.
Reading this readymade poem in reflections like shimmering apron…
revolving around your head.
Green P.V.C sleeve, knotted around your ankle
with pots returning from space over your unbuttoned sleek book.
Snoring departure songs,
Sliding glass windows, Hot, noisy turbines… getting sweaty results…
of voices recorded over this drawing board…
and I’m boring and always “ready to wear” and sleeping here…
to catch hold you…
for forever.
13 Nov 97 | Trees with laser sharpened edges: The box of beautiful lie
I was about to reach the top of that tree. At that moment I saw him,
helplessly trying to snatch hold my feet. He was shouting harshly without
noticing the engulfing fog. I took deep breaths,
as it was getting freezing cold and clutched tightly to the branch.
He couldn’t catch me. Instead fog, with its thousands of tiny,
cold droplets surrounded him. Little sounds ceased and I remained motionless.
The white steam cleared away in seconds…
and his body fell over the slippery ground like some wet blanket.
He had a warm smile, and his eyes reflected the towering old trees surrounding us.
Rainwater started washing him away.
I remained clinging to that tree, freezing blue with dry fear.