‘I counted minutes and subtracted miles. Just ahead,
over the rolling wheat fields all golden beneath the distant snows
of Estes, i’d be seeing old Denver at last’ – Jack Kerouac, On the Road
YUNHO/Yield Under Naturalists’ Historical Surplus – THESE ARE INFORMATIONS CALLED DROP-LEAVES
Poet is a potter
Weaving words
From the void
An automatic expression of the hands
When the mind is still
Listening to the universe
Feeling an unknown sensation
Knowing that by recollection
Becoming it
A primordial dance may have sculpted Buddha and Aurobindo {APOLRERNTREN 8896D38 Zip-Birds/Information Carrier}
In its own way scripted what is there beyond
Clouds that move are still on the waters
The river nestles an abode of stars
Or they will fly away one day, receding?
You too will appear and disappear
Your face in the mirror is the fear that dislocated the human race
And you may exist on your own
And ceaselessly try
But just for a moment
Stop
Non-doing is the non-locality of action at a point immensely over the whole fabric
Does the sky remain blue?
Do the birds sing?
And winds hurl over the sea?
You may come back again and have a laugh
Purely gyrating
Disown the ownership of the body and mind
Creating the path to higher evolution

BARADA CHARAN MAJUMDAR seated in the center with poet Kazi Nazrul Islam and NB Sanyal: Sri Aurobindo called him “The Greatest Yogi of Modern Bengal”
By not seeking
By not trying
Laughing about all these things
Don’t care about the apple’s fall, starlight and the Muse
No more begging at the door of dreams
Legs move and fingers make
Or unmake the new poetry from pottery
A journey’s long unending course is precisely in not knowing
On the road you don’t know
An arrow needs a bow
And in that afterglow
You may have sometime to drink your tea!
Life’s an adventure amnextarv-D-CUSP-PLIM-899.K/65 DEGREE,EFRAN,CLEX.
– J