Wednesday, February 1, 2023

Poetry

Poems by Kalyani Bindu

A Fever of Living Some nights step lightly, like lily-shadows in blue water- apparitions in transit, between dreams. She awakens in a translucent purgatory- a tread from an incipient dream to a feverish slumber, to a body - a map of nocturnal metamorphosis, lacerated fish belly sewn with orange seams, eyes like butterflies in rivulets of pee, unmade and...
Home It was party time. I went to a party at a known place. It was party time. I went to the party as their chief guest. It was party time. I went to a party at a house I used to live, for some time.   Ode to a Graveyard City of angels tombed in silence. A solemn stillness is held in the air. A hollow...
Paradise lonely feet on a subway train at half past midnight she misses paradise where every day she would collect a pocket full of shells why not give her home away for another trip to the coastline without a name our lady train rider flashes back to the nights where she would stumble drunkenly with another girl who split...
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma even the violence seems germane. same old Wichita, ain’t it? bomb every last life boat, make the bird on the bill soar free above that ancient tomb. a camera’s just one eye but damn if we don’t know how to whisk a crowd after wrongful frenzy.   the NRA pays less taxes than me  you won’t find that shrapnel wound in their tax ID #. the business end of muzzle is only prelude of holy creation. “be...
On Reflection a silent tree frog clings to broken shelves of stone rippled by the breeze water colors blend and blur illusions of perfection   Beads clusters of black pearls press into the palms of clouds— a broken necklace that slips between my fingers rains upon this garden path

Poems by Holly Day

Along the River We point out the different birds to one another. Like teenage boys showing off their knowledge of astronomy. Find goldfinches and cedar waxwings in the trees along the river, tiny redpolls and grosbeaks chasing gnats down below. In the water, cormorants lurk, wings spread like vultures night-herons stalk lumbering carp in slow...
A Dream of Youth When we meet, we’ll fly together caressing each other with our enthralling beak, We’ll sing the half-elapsed song Twitter, twitter, twitter... We’ll territorialize the sky, Colonise her spheres, Our wheezing would form thunder. We’ll bathe in the rainbow, Suck the evening twilight, Soar down to nestle in the unfamiliar nest of opportunity. We’ll mouth each other’s adventure, Will laugh...
universe ants working underground not understanding world beyond earth   computer magic inside god box angels wildly dancing google and amazon music   on hold commuter gridlock sea of stationary cars anxious egos idling

Poems by Anirban Dam

Language this noise binds us in peculiar ways as if it knows the frequency at which we resonate I can predict the weather by the lilt in your voice and you can pinpoint my location by the clamor on the streets. evening is when the suburb breaks down into episodes, but all I can think of is the time...
Yarn I. Spread out like a tangential curve, perched on window balconies, I would stare at each abraded line of the sun The sky was my favorite thing, how if I lay horizontally, departed from the forces of gravity and the will of life, everything was united A quiet murmur would rush across the diaphragm, knots and levers humming slowly...
Heirloom When your mother raises her hand; earthy brown, skin cracked open— sun parched field— iron hot temper and hits you the pain melts your flesh, bones, marrow. When your mother raises her hand to strike you the pain bites (your pet rabid dog). She throws the foliage of her swallowed dreams— barren land that was hers and her mother’s and her mother’s mother who couldn’t...
Apiary My friend Sharon raises bees. In her veil she cranks the handle of the silver bee smoker calming the hives. Bearding, swarming in the intimate harmony in which nectar becomes honey or beeswax candles for any altar. Scouts return with tales of pollen. The gilet jaunes swirl around the point Zero buzzing with anger at the money the rich will spend to...