On being Impartial

Passing her
index finger
over the male images
scattered all over my poems
she asked me:
Are you gay…?

the redness of her lips and
not getting entrapped
in the temptation
of her enticing breasts
I began to count
the leaves of the tree
she was leaning against
and the veins crisscrossing
their underbellies.

Gluing her eyes
on the obelisks
the coniferous forests
the Gothic spires
and sharp Pointers
in my new painting
she asked me:
Are you gay…?

resting my gaze on her legs
shaved smooth to the bikini line
and the sweat-pearls rising on it
I kept up a banter
with the hordes of ants
rowing along on a dry-leaf-boat
in the blood of the shade.

Picking up a stray ant
and depositing it in her cleavage
letting it graze along all over
and enjoying
the tickling pain
that crept up along its trails
with half-closed eyes
and trembling lips she let out a doubt
You may be gay.

Turning my face
toward myself
and picking up diligently
the petals of dream
crushed between
the heavy lids of my
drowsy eye I said:
I am the tree you lean against,
a tree that wanders to the earth’s womb
through roots in search of water
and rises up towards the sun
shaking boughs in search of light.

The Crucified

hung down
towards the earth.

spread arms
to the sides.

pointed the glance
up into the heavens.


Program 1

sourcefile: The Gospel According to Matthew; //C.E.29 Zion Mansion, Jerusalem//

is the needle
on the floor.

Your voice,
the thunderclap
adorned with laughter.

You are the kiss
together with
bread and wine
at a table of twelve men.

dusty feet
The cleansing-fetish
of purification.

In my memory
by the spark of your kiss
that had never known
the burning bites of
Martha or Mary.

In Gethsemane
in a drop
of crimson sweat
the betrayal
with a lingering kiss.

The day
that was dawned
at the crowing
of a cock
was of a cross’s color.

Program 2

source file: The Gay Militants (History of Gay Movement: Don Teel) //C.E.1969 June 28-29, Stonewall Inn, Greenwich Village, New York//

is music
softly burning
in the cells

A mouthful of music
two lines of liquor
the Havis of gaping lips…

Love blazes
in the groin
the sinews, wildly
wiggling muscles
full of lust.

the tornado
of Power

kiss of a bullet
behind the ear
bleeding music.

Stonewall splits
into a day
where there is no cock
to crow and make it dawn.

stone not remaining upon stone.

A goblet of wine
in which
Matthew Shepherd
fell and died,
“Miracle Burger
with no mayonnaise
‘osti’ on the side”

Jayan K. Cherian, Queer Cinema, Kashish, Mumbai International Queer Film Festival, Fire, Evening Shadows, Deepa Mehta, Papilio Buddha, Ka Bodyscapes, Aalorukkam, Mumbai Police, My Best friend, Moothon, Vincent Dolman, Holdinghandsproject, AyyanKali, B.R. Ambedkar, Aryakrishnan Ramakrishnan, Njaan Marykutty, Chandupottu, Nagarkirtan, Rajkahini, Mere Angane Mein Tumhara Kya Kaam Hai, Kajra Mohabbat wala, Sancharram, Ligy Pullapally, Rituparno Ghosh, Super Deluxe