Wandering Adiga

“A poet is someone who stands outside in the rain hoping to be struck by lightning.”
― James Dickey

“Memory can move very swiftly. Words do not possess the same swiftness.”
― C.S. Lakshmi, Fish in a Dwindling Lake

“Love The Wild Swan

I hate my verses, every line, every word.
Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird
That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.
Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch
One color, one glinting
Hash, of the splendor of things.
Unlucky hunter, Oh bullets of wax,
The lion beauty, the wild-swan wings, the storm of the wings."
--This wild swan of a world is no hunter's game.
Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast
Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.
Does it matter whether you hate your . . . self?
At least Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can
Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.”
― Robinson Jeffers

“I am still on my zigzag way, pursuing the diagonal between reason and heart.”
― Ruskin Bond, Rain in the Mountains: Notes from the Himalayas