I'm standing in the wind.
We had five years left to cry,
stay in, get things done.
But don't change the power to charm.
It's all artifice.
That's why we have television.
Press your space close to mine,
lay the real thing on me,
and spit in the eyes of fools.
Let's dance for fear
in this serious moonlight,
I turn myself to face myself
[like some cat from Japan]
where things are hollow
in the stream of impermanence.
My brain hurts like a warehouse.
It's not my favorite thing to do.
No, it's just what I do.
So how could they know?
- Modern Love
- Moonage Daydream
- Rebel, Rebel,
- Five Years
- Life on Mars
- Let’s Dance
- Ziggy Stardust
- David Bowie’s answers to the Proust Questionnaire
- David Bowie On The Ziggy Stardust Years: 'We Were Creating The 21st Century In 1971'.
Shloka Shankar is a freelance writer from Bangalore, India. She loves experimenting with Japanese short-forms of poetry, as well as found/remixed pieces alike. Her poems have most recently appeared in After the Pause, Jazz Cigarette, Under the Basho, Right Hand Pointing, Failed Haiku, and so on. Shloka is the founding editor of the literary & arts journal, Sonic Boom.
It continues to snow dust.
The sun comes out of the closet.
Jays enter under the door
jumping over a line of air.
Maybe it was just the light,
cracked somewhere, leaked out,
lucky—I thought you shifted away
in voice, my mouth to hear,
My senses are a cushion, and yet this horror appears to taste my morrow. My alarms are useless because they are on fire with the rest of my home.
Be honest now—
just for a minute; I cried.
I had him locked out—
a perfectly good wish.
Privately, for over a year now you drove off and left me.
The place cooled down beaming and bright—
put my name on a silencer (it’s not the end of the world).
In the mirror, the wooden bust of Christ Nicodemus carved
and Joseph commended to the sea, stares out for reflection.
Only a true spell
of fittingly glamorous phenomena
repaired sunstruck imagination—
Too big for your body, the whale of a bed will go on sale; also the dresser, its
three-linked mirrors tall as sails.
The Nazis are back in town.
No, I know. They never, ever left.