Aakriti Kuntal redux

Elliptical Waves of Orange

Tangerine rolling pins, bend and spin
Segment and disintegrate, shards of fireflies
flick flick, 
A raging erupts against the colloidal mist The sky sits with a heavy bosom milking the cornea of wandering eyes (obtuse stares and acute squints)

I, however, am supplementary My legs, wheat logs, brazen against the evening’s underground lips Nails clawing plastic buttons defeated blue shirt, denim and stains, memories and misery My calves stretch, deflated windpipes Autumn leaves billowing in me

Orange pulp whimpers, flimsy as life, rubs against the dwelling in the air Somber air burns, in reluctant glooming Frisking leaves sniffling and kissing,  strands and celluloid stems, patterns and patterns Warmth enters as mad eels  into my pockets, across my vagina a pinch and a flowering Then orange leaves fall,  strangulated by oxygen swings Pile beside red and yellow buttons A shelter in my clockwork existence

I spill a compact laughing emoji I spill  and split my lips into baked lunar joys Drowning together, the leaves and I  Frayed, dismantled and churning Drowning together, the leaves and I Taking sanctuary in each other’s low breathing

Orange Painting With Pearlescent Blue -- Blake Zucker

Aakriti Kuntal redux

Pariah

Fingers fold and crumple, 

Disperse 

particles of sand roam, 

widowed

and the earth spins, satin black

Structure remains, fist and cage

A false light imbuing air

with the treachery of hope

I empty my timeline

into a teacup

Watch it soak porcelain, 

amoebic stars feeling the clanking rim

We unsettle

where we form

Formation is endlessly ugly

and existence violent

Death arrives and collapses

between sleek fibroid lips, violet oscillations

Pretence extending like a sheet, 

holding cadaverous air

And the body continues,

in its endless lie

As unforgiving as your truth

Pariah --  Marcos Dimas

Aakriti Kuntal redux

Bicycle Exercise

The sky 

blows out of proportion

eyeball rolling backward
theatre sliding into
an invented space

There's no sound, only sight, 
Only sight 
as the clearest blue emerges 
almost like an apparition

I split open, a seed 
resting between the paws
of evening’s fleeting clouds
My feet gliding through
fleets of air, toes as masts

A dragonfly 
is suddenly the most spectacular occurrence 
Spanning out, geometrical   BeeS   in the air

Interaction cannot always be observed 

The sky, the fly, this listless body 
Navigating peacefully through a white triangle 
Life's equation is conjunctional

Scarlet Skimmer Dragonfly -- Kenne Turner

Aakriti Kuntal redux

MY HEART AT SUNRISE

Light circulates

behind the window

Seamstress of orange ferns

I take my widowed palms

into a large spin

and set them on fire

Auburn against the evening's setting sun

Cease and count

the sacred lungs of fire

As they awaken the sky today

once more, one last time

Cease and count

the lifting color of dead bees

As they roam,

strung across a sleepless blue continent

Cease and demarcate

the furious longevity

the rugged intervals

between chambers of white clouds 

As they lick my lonely breaths

and throttle the stunned air

Distort a quiet blue sky

into this dreamless raging voice

as only ugly passions  

like ours do

Then let it beat,

outside of all creation,

my falling heart at sunrise

Aakriti Kuntal redux

Whirr

A bumblebee

whirrs

It has its triangular wings

in the mouth of air

Slipping through past, present and time,
a bumblebee whirrs

Drifting through the condensed pores of air
Here,

a light, a breeze as bright
and sharp–
as a fang

The bones tuned to the orchestra,
grimly watch the shedding

dust, the quarters of lost sunrays
The bumblebee,

alone, marching in solidarity,
with no purpose,
only desire, desire both sweet and heavy

desire, invisible yet palpable
bursting similarly at the seams of my fingers

The bumblebee,
bright in the eye,

a spark shifting in space

above the abode of fuchsia flowers,
their homely heads
submerged in a permanent vacation from earth;
surrendered to the foaming winds
in the last of days

The bumblebee,
bright, sharp
snipping the air, cutting it into bosoms of longing

Until one catches the other
and other leaves another
And the body,
both seamless and restless
is cut and unified

in a long, nameless song

Bumblebee -- Victoria Trok