Wednesday, February 1, 2023
Home September 2019

September 2019

Poems by Anne Babson

Before I spoke their language as a philosopher. I assumed harsh consonants accidents. I stood in long lines at their communions. They laid hands on. I listened bent forward. I sat under their lectures, taking notes. The seemed clean, free of the stain of questions. They dressed so nicely, invited me out -- Beerhall nights where we...
Terry Engel I stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, just a few feet from the engraved words that marked the spot where Martin Luther King Jr. stood to give his “I Have a Dream” speech. At the time of the speech, August 28, 1963, I was three and...
MANNEQUIN It wants to be alive, to know sense and have lucid dreams. However, the possibility of a lone storefront mannequin awakening is a dream. Frozen in the bright neon of the city lights, unable to motion her wants or needs, the mannequin remains silent. Yet even the impossible things can...
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...
Home When the tree shed all leaves under a blue naked sky, someone whispered: It’s spring. I sat a crow on the barren tree that melted down before the black bird escaped in to oblivion. Pebbles strewn around the pathway laughed & walked straight into my heart When I found the gate locked after a long journey, the road announced: You’re home.   Skeleton Standing alone in front, of...
NOSTALGIA OF A WORKNIGHT She’s weary as an unused toy—unwrapped, not touched. She’s not hidden but by herself in back of a toybox, under the snapped off arm of her last doll. She thinks a shelf might be nice. She’d like to hear the soft click as her nightlight went dark and slipped into a sleep...
RIVERS Should I multiply or divide my soul in rivers under sheltering domes? I have left bits of me in the Elbe and the Rhine. I have left liquid tears in the lighted Seine. Paris, Berlin, Dresden -- each city is an epic, a tome. In rose gardens in the day or beer-gardens at night I have ranged and roamed. The...

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...

Poems by Sanjeev Sethi

Masscult Elation about well-timed ascendancy has a certain piquancy. It extends to those not affiliated to it. When *M C Sher’s flowing tongue capsules his long haul his happiness is mine, tap- ping into frozen areas of my campaign. In rooting for this Gully Boy I begin to rekindle my abandoned side. *Siddhant Chaturvedi in Gully Boy, breakout...

A City Poet

Gaurav Monga In the back of his apartment was a room that used to be his brother's before he died that he now called the bindery. On the tables there were sheets of loose paper—unfinished poems that he had been revising for many years, poems that would eventually age with...
Title: When Lovers Leave and Poetry Stays Writer: Jhilam Chattaraj Publisher: Authorspress Publishing Date: 2018 Language: English Reviewed by: Juveria Tabassum The time has come for women to leave the woods andreclaim forbidden spaces.  In our vast nation while there are millions of girls who disappear due to traditional cultural evils like dowry and female...

Poem by Arnab Saha

LOWERED GUILLOTINE Translated from the original Bengali by Kushal Poddar 1 The stormy shuttle car climbs up the flyover. My finger descends into your fist, joyous, barrier breaking. Shall stay in touch, infinity. History's curtain will come down over the horizon of time. Moments will guide ahead. Rain falls on my chest, windscreen... 2 ‘Return, Archismān.’ When red ants smite the chrysalis no caterpillar wings...