UJWAL RAJAPUTHRA


Ujwal is a filmmaker, author, artist and freshman at the
University of Southern California (USA). He dreams of rainy
woodlands and unknown magics. Ask him about dinosaurs.






Binary

0
It never sounded right when Mom said
Life wasn't binary,
her words echoing like the icy winnow
of a lakeside burst,
when every sunset spent in lonesome,
only:

One sun;
One moon;

& a cove of stars bending its skeleton
into place.


01

Fire-spun moths & sage-skin guppies,
reminders of a world offtune &
cut like the fresh scent of their lily-white
shells, a satin trove of split beauty:

0, for the seashell rind of their cheeks;
1, for the honeysuckle bronze in their skin.

Where a coarse shore laces with lost brambles,
the hum of my dark tide burns softly.


010

Colors in my world have split now:
black & white,
like the threads strung about my hair;
ripples of water kissing cold crushes of flower.

Somewhere beyond the
sky-flung cosmos,
nameless colors birth like
embers from blackness.


0101

Last Sunday, I saw a raven perch upon
the vines, & a flask
of deep wine fortified by April gloom.
It smelled lethargic,
but the clouds scaped far across the
skies, & I lost my clasp of time:
For once, I couldn't tell if it was the

(Sun) 0 or 1 (Moon)

reining in world that day, & in these
careful moments, I feel the
breath of life: the urge to
to rush over the hillock's peak & exhale into the clouds,
to witness the universe tear.

Even if only a binary little.



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