CIRCLING

I love the metaphoric hyperbole that opens this poem, moonlight upon the door depicted as—”A bucketful of moon/falls on my door”.
I see in this narrative the emotions of a battered soul arising out of suffering, and the speaker laments being battered and bruised, and in the end, he wishes for rain to fall into his cocktail of hope, his absinthe, his bane against pain! I will always look to your poetry, Satish, with the expectation of powerful words addressed to conflict, and human suffering on the singular existential plane, and for the whole of humanity. Thanks for the poem — oxygon


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