cap scribblings.

Words strung together voluntarily and involuntarily.


Beside Eusoff hall

Do we need to speak?
The wind whispers my poetry-
Sighs your boughs echoed.



Dance journal 1.1

And then they were quiet –
Silence swathing
Arms. Legs. Shoulders
Muffling, the clacking of joints
Long caged under skin.
The tick tock of clockwork
Transcribed, (by hand)
Into a mere cock of the head.
Seeping like mercury
Turning bone into fluid.
hush-
See the void turn molten silver.
Hush!
Listen to the silence,
As shapes become music.



Dance journal 1.2

(Of dance conventions)

A sudden rap on the door
Ruptures oblivion’s bubble

We stand, trembling like flies
Caught in time’s web, ensnared
In a standstill. Right over
Left. Our patchwork eyes
Watching, as horizons
Unfurl like delicate thread
Extending in a criss-cross, criss-cross
Criss-Cross. Infinity tangles-

Barring the spider that would not come.




Question

How deep do the roots go?
You ask me

The equatorial wind whispers
My answer, into your ear-
Beneath populated skies


And Under
......The...... fragmented ......shadows
...Of a canopy
...........................we cannot Name.




{ekphrasis} Three Women Washing
based on a painting entitled ‘Three women washing’ by Yong Mun Seng


you double your steps
as the familiar dampness
wends between your toes.

The gurgle of river-water
Laps at your ears. You
Slip into your favourite spot
Downstream-

Between two women
From the next village
Whose babble runs
In tandem to river-song.

Rattan basket river-washed.
The current kisses your feet.
Singing its pleasure.

(Your husband will be expecting the same later)

Dip in, dip out-
You watch as the clothes shed
Diamond tears.
Day after day, one after
Another. Only
To be soothed by the sun.

Dusk falls on waters
Washed blue, by the colours
In your eyes.

Far off.
The cackling of geese calls home.