PORTRAIT OF THE POET AS AN OLD CLICHE

Squatting,

(under the huge

tree with red,

yellow leaves,

half-bent, half

falling into

green, brown waters

of the still,

dirty lake

turning orange,

red, gold, silver,

black under

the purple, violet, blue,

turquoise sky

in the red, orange,

brown setting sun,

half drowned in

the silver, gold,

white smokey

clouds)

the poet in the

long, black,

patched old

felt overcoat

and broken,

brown boots

holding

a long, thin, dry

reed

was a poem

himself.

© Jatin Gandhi, 2005