On keyboard it is mostly death that comes
To our fingers, from the pages of atavism.
Philosopher’s dad dies his personal death.
Son is keyboard-busy with the big picture.
We are mostly emptied of sadness in eyes,
For the star-gazing eyes of our dead dads .
You see the somber coffin in Italian village
In a procession filled with general sadness.
(Looking at Henri Cartier- Bresson’s photograph Funeral in Italy)
Momentary poems 