Like Names by Jayanta Bhaumik

reality, is a mammoth talk. 
Let’s choose the bluish soft, the quicksilver of love, 
the surreal. It smells like the old bark, the wooden 
unknown. On a table made up of such wood, you 
have kept your memory, memories. They have now 
Thursdays, Fridays. They are the surreal, for they
are the parts of a week’s fantasy. As a week bumps 
open to a breeding, brooding time, you have its freak 
linking, again, to it, – the surreal. 
Then time spends a day. Time sleeps a night. They live 
like names.  
Everything when spends and sleeps, actually spends and 
sleeps with a name. Every living and unliving being, you 
love them like a name, playing on them the music. Isn’t music
too the surreal? A dull consistency thus plays a hide-and-seek. 
And you play with your water, water magic, 
which never flows. 
For there is a deep utility that magic survives with. 
For it is fixed, it is weighty.
Hard metallic point. 
It is dot. 
Centre. 
 
But there are 
matters like despair, illusion and losses 
fear of infinity and abundance
coherence of long letters lying in the silent seams of notepad
We do not know where they wobble and going 
where they end 
But you treat them like circles. You think they are
bound to be real. 

Jayanta Bhaumik is a Research Member of American Federation of Astrologers Inc. His works can be found in the recent or upcoming issues of Poetry Super Highway, Zombie Logic Review, Merak Magazine, Pif Magazine, PPP Ezine, Better Than Starbucks, Vita Brevis Journal, Pangolin Review, Cajun Mutt Press, and Scarlet Leaf Review.