Jesus! (it's good)

The picture came to me in a flash. Using it wasn't a choice. No other image I could think of expressed what I wanted to express at that moment.

Amsah, I showed your words to Suman the other day and she of course loved them, but then I forgot to write you to say thanks for the note. This, then, is my belated thanks. I took the photo in Jan. in Vijaynagar . . . Every time I drive by the Ganpati temple on Vengurla Rd. I remember you writing to me about how you walked up the hill that overlooks it. Some friends of ours stayed at the Sanman Hotel two months back while visiting us and that reminded me of you also since you stayed there once. Although we've never met in person, our non-meetings have developed their own peculiar substance! We both recognize and remember (as if they were part of our own lives) people and experiences that we know about not from our individual comings and goings but only because the other one has told us about them.

We praise being "down to earth," then ignore those who are closest to the ground, the ones at the bottom of the totem pole. No matter what anybody says, knowledge is like plants, it springs from the dirt, from realizing that the true way up is to go down.

The iron image is horrid. I mean not that it is done badly; I mean that it makes one feel horrid. Short poem with long lingering impact. Have not stopped by in while. Is it because you scare me?

You are not a "personal" blogger. Although you write much about yourself and experiences in poems you post, you do not write daily things like, "I went to store and saw Munjit today." I say this because I think this picture is of your wife since I know her name is Suman. To glimpse this caring, strong, beautiful face in your photo means a lot to me. Your poetry often moves me and this face moves me as much! This one picture may say more about the environment in which you live than a thousand trivial details. Thank you.

love it and the one below too. they know what they're doing, these street vermin, yeah they do.

Alicia, I just sent you an email. What a pleasure to hear from you.

Hi Bob! This is Alicia, Sonia & Angel's daughter....I'm doing research on Che Lumumba for the final project for my Master's at UMass. I would love it if you, Suman, and/or Adriana would be willing to answer some questions for me? Please email me at the above email address if you are interested! Thanks & hope you are all well!
Alicia

Parth: Glad you liked the Ak-47s image. Definitely a pleasant surprise to find your comment. It made my day when I read it last week. Sorry it took me so long to respond. I'm looking forward to seeing you in March. Give Ruta my love.

Amazing writing Uncle Bob. Favorite line was aiming the AK-47s at God.

Thanks, aj.

great combo of words/picture. you the saint of crazy accuracies.

The background you provide illuminates two things: first, that your Dharwad colleague made his suggestion to a welcoming recipient and second, that you are quite tardy when it comes to notifying people that you have written them poems!

As you can see I wrote the ghazal a long time ago. I wrote it (and a few others too) as an experiment at the suggestion of a colleague, Mokashi-Punekar, when I lived in Dharwar. The one posted below was the most successful one, written to a person who was both mentor and friend to me and with whom I remain friends until this day. In fact, I only posted the poem here after first sending it to Gary - a poem I had written him almost 40 years ago but didn't get around to sending him until earlier this week!

Glad you liked it, aj.

Nice, Robert. Also, I read the ghazal below. What prompted you to write a ghazal? I do not recall you writing in that form before?

this poem reminded me of something so i used your blog search engine and found a monsoon poem from back in 2006 that you dedicated to gauri deshpandi and sharon doubiago. although that poem's not structurally similar to this poem, it does share a sense of saturation, fecundity, excesss, all verging on what seems like a very unromantic pantheism.

this poem is a downright motherfucker

Overwhelming.