Rampant
A dream of flower ridden blossom
The wavering chaos of the river run high
I escaped the drugged wish
Of melancholic numbness around me
The slit throated sky high buildings
Of consumer care and globalized madness
The sip of soma is adjacent
Life’s little brittle mystery of strange alteration
A camphor of village ridden blush
The boat ride of everyday coming port
A slush for the modesty of eavesdropping sickness
Till the city learners the indoors of passion
The burning ghat still flames high
As the coming and going to this world is rampant
As poetic reverie bemused in silence.
The spectacular nature of all of these symbols of rampant (meaning wild and
overflowing– images rush at you the reader as does the river, as does the
cremation ritual as does the modern madness and the ghat where cremation takes
place by the Ganges. The poet is powerless as are we in the coming and going.
I’m amazed by so many uncanny lines of litany and observational connections.
I feel the burning in the monsoon season. It’s a beautiful tour de force.