Prageeta Sharma




Travel

I am traveling around this time with a group of listeners
fabricating little urchins. My mind is at unrest
for I am a drawstring tying up sex and heat.
A solid equidistance of rapture and mistakes scare me into
this place of bleating a sheep out of its discourse.
When I glanced at Spinoza, I felt the fear of ethics placating
me at this certain moment of defeat. Please, dearest of dear friends
draw me a map away from the pivotal moment when I surrender
my dignity to hedonism. No dropkick, no head-on into the blindness.
Billowing, hovering wind, I see you grab the trees and shake them.