From Zelaldinus

the ticket gate (21st c)

i take the royal palace by a side door
neither tradesman nor noble
but breakfasted touring petty bourgeois

in flying machine jeans and quo vadis sandals.
sketchbook true—but no camera to declare
only a genius for late rising and sundry foibles.

sun high 00grey t-shirt already clinging wet 000wet hair.
wattle earlobes damp 000refrigerated water bottle warm
ten rupee ticket wilting in my hand 00curling in wet air

its boggy bromo paper so slack and gorm
less it parts from the counterfoil without a ripple
when the gatekeeper tugs along the pro form

a perforation. 00no morsecode stipple
no tiny luscious enfilade from childhood rites
of passage where i stumble blind mute joyous cripple

in darkened theatre—dotted though it is with steplights—
potato wafers crepitating in trodden sheaves
in the deep pile carpet as the vampire screen frights

begin 000instead dry scuff of dead neem leaves
on red sandstone flags. 000and a single
dazzling sunburst off the pearlpet waterbottle that leaves

a gooseflesh spinal tingle
and a row of black eclipses on the retina
so fear and darkened vision mingle.

aphorisms of the king

~ i ll kill the man who slanders my bleeding saint with my bare hands

~ that line about redemption—run it past me again 0 fatherwhatsyourname

~ this is one country—mine

~ then i ll marry her too

~ and her

~ look 00just go conquer sind 00000i cant be everywhere at once

~ tell your king our painters are the sun

~ and our singers the moon

~ now—whos for a game of tag the leopard?

~ my supersubtle f m 00 just close down the royal mint for a decade—simple!

~ ive been thinking 0 0if we ratchet up the pinwheel we ll lift the water twice as fast

~ you feel sorry for meateaters 0lining their stomachs with souls

~ one more thing 0000if all faiths are equally false does it follow that all are equally true?

~ we ll put the books here 0000next to the armour

~ chamberlain 000000this pillows much too soft!

letters (16th c)

being unlettered
his majesty

reveres the
written word

so when
a noble

at meat
put down

his dish
too near

a scroll
his majesty

had the
sub librarian

slippered

schoolmen

some day i ll show you 000000he says to me
the schoolmen at their labours
(leading me past the princes academy)

grown men writing 000term papers
magicians turning books 00000into books
—frankly id rather risk the souks miasmic vapours.

now over there you see the social cooks.
hunger theorists basting the fatted calf with flummery
and not one hungry man among them—not crooks

but on par with those chaps by the chummery.
activists. clowns you saw got up in motley. which
being thespians of rage steeped in mummery

—hoi! he stops himself and elbows me00 this is rich.
(we pause beside a line where doctor nurture
pegs out his little learning stitch by stitch)

now this sage here complete with cranial suture
they say he has a glass prospective
of wondrous power for winkling out the future

but hearing—when refuted—conveniently defective
the din of conference and symposial clamour
drowning out irrelevant invective.

i took his mealy mouth out to dine at timurs
here and watched him squirm at our mofussil guise
the decor menu clientele the pinchbeck glamour

small town crappyola and then the flies
all bug the visiting purist 00000as india
agonistes—judged always huh from the big appyola—dies.

look fuck these fellow travellers irv.00 i hear
the kitchens done some liver fry with raw
onions 0i could eat a horse 0a chihuahua done in beer.

just remember as you chaw
our backwoods universities pullulate
because these guys have all moved jaw

so far afield as to mandibly dislocate.
while the dregs here wink and smile
our tan specialists surgically relocate

and shiver in boston town and london—and while
they mouth indic slogans lick ass and praise
our growing gdp00 (and sing songs of exile)

outsiders gloat over our sad malaise.
exile my dick! 000000 what keeps them there?
it makes me sick. 00whats in that temperate haze?

is it just the easy passage in and out? a cutprice fare?
or that handy global village death of nations cry?
losing your edge and finding the centre (naturally there).

but to choose to live with the look irv the double take the sigh
where the best they can hope for is villain
to indiana jones? where massa will always have them by

the short and curlies? thats craven irv craven!
even by our fallen standards thats debased. bid fair
irv0 0is the job worth it?000000 is it irwin!

show me a freer land 00show me sweeter air
than this at cowdusk—but then its always been outsiders
not bespoke indians and stowaways to there

who made us see whats right beside us
not this defaulting citizenry 00not fair
but foulweather friends from max mueller to mohandas.

besides western scholars still do the lions share
of serious work—their begleys delvoyes koches..
but these guys? 00000 i mean what keeps them there?

the loot? the armani suit? the porsches?
jesus irv (blessings on his holy name but by his rood)
id wear rags—id go stark naked—clip my moustaches

cut my throat! — i swear! read my dewlap. 00still i wd
endure that expensive guttercrawling except they creak
for us as if they lived here shared the common good

and bad. 000look. 00 i say go there 0great 0go seek
your fortune 00become that 00be
that write that glowing moment 0speak

your new land its bright unfolding history
write that thing 00 000set yourself free!
thats how it shd be with immigrants pakistani

greek roman esquimo—bel­ong! 0put on that me.
why fly this sorry flag? 0i mean we mughal crew
shook off that turki dust 00dug in and ploughed this lea.

what keeps them there?00damned if i know.
this one goes from chat show to chautauqua to chair
that one has a whole site complete with tortured photo..

not one of them—well maybe one—has paid his way.
that fatwa fellow. the rest doing a hitch hike
on the gravy train (injun end) while beavering away

at their bleeding c v for holy miriams sake!
what keeps them there?0000the footlight basking?
the thrill of being closer to the mike?

—but what forgive me irv for asking
(this politely not meaning to gain face
take liberties) do you do when youre tasking?

i blench and stammer in the wake0000the still moiling race
of his harangue.000000 —i—i write your roy—
al highness. 000and he unlettered lets that cook a space

then turns and skewers my halfbaked loaf with—write what boy?
and im obliged to come clean 000000and tender
—n novels highness nnamas and such toys

—a novelist! 000well well. tomorrow you shall render
proof spin us a taut yarn. or we ll have another door
bricked up here 00000and whats more signposted— returned to sender.

the little finger of his majestys left hand
defies the stoutest sword arm in the land
how much mightier then the royal tongue
yea than a damascus sword!
the ink pen trembles to record
the merest smitch of his diurnal saying

—abul fazl p m

heartravishing sayings of HM

~ absolute zero is wider than true north by half

~ true north is farther than a neighbours wife

~ a neighbours ox eats twice the measure of thine own

~ east is east but measure your bread by the baking stone

~ people in stone houses shd not glaze to the south

~ the stolen mango is sweetest in a drought

~ east is south when the world leans on its elbow

~ the former light of the world got off his tiger (aiyyo)

~ the paper tiger shd beware the candle by the bed

~ in the country of the toothless is the best head

~ better a stale fish fry than a bad ghazal

~ (conjec) this poets a right pain in the abul fazl

~ neither can i (haha) [dismissing the following claim of grounds for divorce]:

000000majesty she cant sleep with the light on 0000 i cant read in the dark

sikri lullaby

do you never go beyond the mesh on your cradle.
do you never go beyond the slats on your cot.
do you never go beyond this threshold with the bolthole.
do you never go beyond the elephant gate.
do you never go beyond naubats hailing.                                             
do you never go beyond chapter five.
do you never go beyond the knot of her drawstring.
do you never go beyond four wives.
do you never go beyond six daughters.
do you never go beyond the khyber pass.
do you never go beyond the black waters.
do you never go beyond the moons broad face.
do you never go beyond the hem of gods garment.
and i will love you all my days

departmental ditty
(for anshu vaish)        

the archaeological survey of india     (asi)
that ontological mouthful  has bigger fish to fry

than you and me and naubat singh      and sharmaji included
but smaller too or else we are egregiously deluded

from paleolithic arrowhead to marble taj mahal
every conceivable shape and size   it catalogues them all

its briefs a tad ambitious  not wholly practicable
but given the scale from minnow to whale its soundly demonstrable

the nation needs  or else it bleeds  a system of policing
monuments and tumulii that teem with modes of fleecing

the irrigation ministry has plans to flood that town
diverting streams so nymphs in stone—ten yakshis—with it drown

this hillock might prove stupa  that the i v c
but the railway minister covets its bricks to line his holy see

starved for funds while the army bloats and the war drum it bangs on
by dentine or by hangnail the survey it hangs on

its learnt to keep its head down  thats how you dig  my brother
it knows that when it looks one way  its back is turned the other

and so it paints a numeral on every piece of furniture
as each potsherd so every pin     just routine nomenclature

a jealous eye on every stick       a tab on all the bones
since god—or the devils—contractor has carted off the stones

you email dubdubdub.asi           the clerk says send a fax
you telephone you know the boss          ah then  he says  relax

but show your cause in duplicate   he rounds to the attack
it helps you know the burra mem   but let her catch the flak

what would we do without
what would we do without

the archaeological survey
the archaeological survey

of india             (asi)

percival

percy stands just shy of tall. 0assam tea skin
hints at the high mongolian (why?) hair rough cut
and pushed back with long fingers. 00prognathic chin

that he sometimes neglects to shave. 00brooding jut
to the elkish upper lip a nibbling pout shared
too with the tropic cowfish. 0 nose beaked mouth wide but

its taut horizon allows all kinds of weather. 00beard
(for now) and bushy brow hobnob in brighteyed gloom.
class three dental occlusion. 0build able bodied.

up from a pondy south that knows no cold00hes come
unprepared. 0is wearing all his teeshirts at one go
under the cream shawl he got straight off a home loom

by the bus stand. 00so three rings—black white grey—show
at his neck. as his red beret crests sikri ridge
he looks like the painted crane. 0precise not slow.

straggler of the flock0 0but soarer too. 0hostage
to love.0 0grounded for now but happiest gliding
on thermals.0 0not overgiven to verbiage.

confession

[father monserrate in gown and black biretta is pacing by the womens quarters practising
restraint. his alabaster earlobes glow from the effort as he writes with one gaunt finger in the
frosty air where his script hangs in wisps]

00 00i fully believe the king inclines
00 00towards our faith
00 00and lacks but a dram
00 00of persuasion to turn altogether
00 00to the one true god.
00 00your grace may expect results
00 00[strike one]
00 00by march/by july/by september/ by
00 00and by—

[when suddenly a young man treads on his cassock]

monserrate 000000 0my child where to in such haste?

percival 0000 00000 good father can you guide me to the watergate?

m 000000000000000and whats your business there?

p 00000000 0 00000 my guidebook mentions a nooria—an acqueduct.

m 00000000000 000 a nooria! why we had those at home. his majesty has one here of his own
00000000000000 00 devising. but the watergate is bricked up. only such as i can enter there.
0000000000000 000 well go you past the executioner turn right and follow the outer wall
000000000000 0000 but not as far as the zenana for that way lies temptation..

p0000000000000 00 i ll steer clear father and come back to you for confession if thats all right.

m 00000000000000 your mind is troubled son?

p 000000000000000a little father.

m 000000000 00000you burn son?

p 000000 0000000 0i burn father. for every beauty truth be told. but im lost to one across the border.

m 000000000000 0 what border child?

p 0000000000000 0with pakistan.

m 0000000 000000 a country then?

p 000000 00000000a fine country father but our enemy they say. yet the only one of theirs i ever met i loved.

m 00000000 00000who is this child my son?

p 0000000 000000 a paki father born and bred.

m 00000 00 0 0000and what is she to you?

p 000000 000 0000 no relation good father but promise of eternal peace and permanent arousal.

m 000 000 00 0 00 where does she live?

p 0000 00 00 0000 in karachi father.

m 0000 0 00 0000 and where is that?

p 000000000 0000 the wrong side of the tracks father. twenty visa applications have come back.

m 0000000000000 then how do you meet?

p 00000000000000online good father.

m 0000000 000000ah yes ive heard of that. and you (como se?) chatter daily?

p 0000000 000000 [with dignity] chat father. nightly.

m 0000000 0 0000 these meetings are how shall i say virtual?

p 000000 0000000 sadly father.

m 00000 00000000be it so until the nuptial day. go in peace my son.

p 000000 0000000 [sotto voce] say in pax father.

0000000 00000000[returning after some time]

00000000 00 0000 walled up as you say father. will you confess me now?
00000000 0 00000—i) it wasnt wholly virtual and
0000000 000 0000—ii) i dont hate pakis. am i queer?

m 000000 000 0 0 come back to me for the first. for the second you must render unto caesar
00 000 000 00 0 0 child. and go the given way. the court of public audience lies there. do
00000 0 0 0000 00 your obeisance to the king and ask his opinion. you have a petition?

p 0000000 0 0 00 0i have a ticket.

m 0 000 0 0 00 0 0 let me see. [examines it] i fear this free line will not do with the king.
00 000 0 000 000 0entree comes dressed more formally in these parts.

p 00 0 0 000 000 0 too true father. i found the freest man of all in sikri fallen on sonneteering.

m 0000000000000 ah the saint! a man most godfearing. the cold does curious things. god
000000000000000 will forgive him three cold sonnets. could you not try some plainer schema?

p 00000000000000not terza rima!

m 0000000000000why not? here let me remix it. there! go join the throng in the diwan-i
000000000000000aam. your turn will come. today the king judges—or rather his elephant
0000000000000 0 does—criminals. so beware! theres a stone hassock below the
000000000000 00 throne where you must on no account rest your head. do you see the food
00000 000000000 taster there by the executioners gate—too late! no matter. here
000000000000000is some europe petitioner. follow him.

golightly

(after thomas coryate who walked to india in 1613)

madgesty
this is terence golightly gentylman
hath walked from england to see thee.

bringing no bounty from his quean
no costly jewel 00no mechanic trinketry
but only his yeoman heart and legges lean
to set before thy august self on bended knee

and heartfelt assurance that his people will
naught but gode to our own people.
though our cruel neighbours heere did use him ill
caring no figge for crucifix or steeple.

once robbed 00twice beaten00 left for dead
relieved of eye pod and camera digitalis
nathless of gode chere and sound head.
his collar no lytle motheaten withal his

codpeece the worse for daily goad.
mayhap he h@h ytales to tell
of cyber wonders met upon the road
mayhap some old alchemyc spell

for the manufactory of gold
or gunpowder. wherefore he beggeth
hospitality and wode make bold
ere forlorn homeward he leggeth

to narrate (in english it is true but matched
by mimic feats) whensoever yr madgesty
shd please hairraising tales new snatched
from myth reality show and travesty.

here he be in costume something threadbare
his lonlye plannete bosom-clutcht but shoon
no lytle down at heel and all headbare.
he is at pains to mark him no buffoon.

a game of bowles he hath already taught
involvyng bat and paddes and wickets three
(being eke much exercizd of sweaty sport)
to twice eleven yong roisterers of siquiri.

no creeping missionarie he. 0enthusiast
instead of gastronomie meanyng no greater sin
than to convert this nacion to such repast
as spotid dyk toad in the hole and thin

gravy. wherefore gode king in goddes name
the great the merciful who shines alike
on besse and uqbar of commensurate fame
grant shelter to this wayward pallid shrike

els he wode have no option but
to figure smalle in bolyewode
playing seconde soldier tommy redcote
or lecherous teaplanter spode.

the well

dug
by
a
man
of
the
chalwanji
caste
who
plaits
a
kundali
rope
of
grass
and
winds
it
round
and
round
shoring
up
the
walls
as
he
goes
and
when
hes
gone
youre
let
down
ankle
roped
to
hang
there
swaying
upside
down
voiding
your
head
one
with
the
dark

turning

daylight robbery

will you be lying there some morning 00000000sir

thinking 00000000imustgettowork

theempireneedsme

and then you think

000000000000000000of her?

trains

what are trains like 0dreaming perce?
000000asks the king.
0they glide like etiquette sir
through halls of gleaming protocol
flash past liquid crystal lights and draw up at distant portals
000000to cities of plate glass
0and never stop for ordinary mortals.
000000trains are class.

what are trains like 0dreaming percy?
000000asks the priest.
0they glide like grace father
on rails that meet at the horizon
all who ride them must show a ticket that says shriven
000000or face eternity in prison
for they never stop till they arrive in heaven.
000000trains are extreme unction.

what are trains like 0 dreaming persia?
000000asks the saint
0they jolt like disillusion baba
000000board them with caution
0and shd you begin to enjoy the ride its just temptation
get off and walk no matter if youre sick or well
0for the next stop surely is damnation.
000000trains are hell.

we ll tell you what trains are like dreamy percival
000000say the gang of four
00they glide like vultures percival
0bars on the windows blood on the track
convoy of carrion crows cross dressed in black
000000dead guard in the last carriage
who never stops to pick up widows.
000000trains are carnage.

what are indian trains like waking perce?
000000asks his paki woman.
0they ride like skin on skin woman
000000like ours last night
no different from your trains same red light and green flag
same shitty toilet same unchanging fare
0000same penalty stop chain.
000000trains get you there.

then why do they stop at the border crabby percy?
000000nags percys woman.
0ask all that lot above woman.
buggered if i know why they stop at the border.
000000planes are better.

pak train

gazing out the bogey door
at green fields racing past

you are my beautiful woman

pissing down a black hole
in the indian style toilet

you are my beautiful woman

eating the air? grins the railway cop
i look full in his raddled face

you are my beautiful woman