Medic     As casual as strolling on a graveled pathway   in a close-by parkland, words cycle towards   me on my inner track where ideas lap dance  with a tumescent dash. The first draft is born.   This baby needs a battery of nurses and   other paraphernalia. I’m the doc on duty.   Summon the accoucheur for stillborns.       Memento Mori    Campestral locales furnish   the song and dance routine   with a context. Ill-lighted   rooms caution me of you.   When their consciousness   darkles, I am snug as a bug.   Why does sadness complect   my cheeriness? Is alertness   a curse?        Nonfiction    Google and other griefs  chase my working hours.  Nights are cut out for  graphology. In temple of  needs my pelage seeks   your petting. My god   it seems is huffy.      Fair Play    The … Continue reading “Bleb,” A Poetry Excerpt by Sanjeev Sethi