River Peaces

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After a long break, a little bit of peace for your morning from the Irrawaddy. Continue reading “River Peaces”

maybe my heart is full of sky

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so maybe the only thing

separating loving and living

is an oh of amazement – the

breathless sound the sky makes

when falling the final gradient

from dusk to twilight and back

again, the way your eyes keep

searching for stars only an

evenmist away, how your fingertips

keep feeling for worlds closeted

within atoms, and maybe

that difference really isn’t as

much as we always thought,

like how your breath can be a

song and a song can be a kiss

from the universe saying you are

here you are here you are here

over and over in seven quintillion

different ways.

This is a chestnut-headed bee-eater I spotted flying over a field in Valparai earlier this summer. I’ve always loved bee-eaters – almost as much as I love kingfishers, actually. The first time I saw one – a blue-throated bee-eater in my condo – I actually could not stop smiling for a solid half-hour afterwards. There’s a sort of exuberance they inspire, the way they swoop and dance over the sky, their quick rests on the bare branches, their confident grace. They’re also pretty damned beautiful, no matter which way you cut it, and the sight of their bright colors darting across the blue is enough to make anyone convert.

On some weeks I’m going to be reposting old photographs and posts. This one is from nearly a year ago, and I thought deserved a fresh glance.

Death Among the Wildflowers

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Continue reading “Death Among the Wildflowers”

The Night Roads

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We ride the night roads

looking for leopards:

our hearts in our mouths,

our minds lost to the dark,

wind humming in our ears,

whispering songs of eyes

and the hunt, our lights

ever stalking the black.

At night, the forest comes alive in ways one cannot see in the whiteness of day. You swing your flashlight around – and there are eyes, staring curiously back, or quickly running away – mousedeer and flying squirrels and civets and hares, the denizens of these dark paths.

Paper Wings

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what I am trying

to capture is the sheer

delicacy of it: like the way

that sunlight breaks across

water in a million fragments,

or the smallness of stars

at night and the vastness of

the night sky about them. or

the stars in their deep brown

eyes and how it twinkles

in the afternoon. or the

burgeoning sense of birdsong

in the morning growing with

the growing light. or the

patterns of rain on river. or

the oldness of tree roots. or

the drifting dance of butterfly

wings and the colours each day

unfailingly brings.

Abstractions from the Embers

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A fire smoulders on a dark night in Bangalore, India.

we burn with unapologetic fury

against the dark, the dark,

the creeping creeping dark;

sing with unrestrained vigor

into the silence, the silence

the humming humming silence;

live with undimmed spark

for the light, the light

it grows and it grows and

it grows

 

Flight

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against this sky’s endless canvas,

paint your image with your wings:

call it a self-portrait in ultraviolet.

I’ve been experimenting a bit with photo-editing lately. This, of a blue-throated bee-eater from a trip to Sungei Buloh quite a few months back, is one of the results. I’m not sure what I make of it – let me know what you guys think.

Note: this post is scheduled.