Risking a Poem

This poem was written on a perfect afternoon in Pokhara when the Neela1 flowers were embroidered against the sky, when Fewa Lake spread its sun-glinted anchol under the hills, and eastern clouds threatened to soak a hurrying road, this poem was coming into being.   The poet had traveled far in search of a slice …

A Dhaka Minute

 A car, a hopeful meanderer, Static in perpetual motion, an equilibrium Unwanted, undesired, but The only inevitable. Inside, the air is conditioned, cool – Outside, an almighty inferno.   The temple, once hallowed, now erring, ablaze, The slum, once homes, now ablaze, The bus, a promise of transference, ablaze, The rickshaw, a livelihood, ablaze, The …

Paper Heart

there are poems inside of you that paper cant handle all stuck inside an urn sitting on a mantle filled with secrets and dead promises and broken hearts filled with lies and dead smiles and painful remarks there are poems inside of you that paper can’t handle stuck like your mind when your favorite person …

My Amygdala

Naked scales and serrated wants fall around me like inlets of a vertical body of water. Sound is the lizard in me, anhydrous its eyes; slide a finger down its lizard tail and feel irate grooves— centuries old—rising away from fear under its violent epidermis. Take me to your calm place and I will sink …

A Confession

Do I call it fate Or the consequence Of decisions made That has led me to this Peculiar state of mind? I pray to a divine entity That I do not seek As often anymore. I bow, not to worship, But to sin. I kneel not to Him, But to you. I wonder who I …

Aging

It hurts. Twisted, gnarling, rooted pain that knows no age, no boundary it envelopes into me, into others, and I see it reach out with a radiated hand pain is so familiar. I have become desensitized to it. I only know it needs me and that my corporeal and incorporeal existence beckons to it, like …

The Philosopher No More

A raconteur unto himself His deft tales he did not tell Any man or any beast. A self-appointed philosopher Trapped inside his own skull, Thoughts expressed to no soul. They came for him nonetheless, The thought police who patrol These dark, depraved streets; He stands tall, he does defy The higher power of this land, …

Second Generation Air Pump

i. What domestic image are you scrutinizing this morning, Carlos Williams? What line break have you devised on your carriage, hastening from a measled simp to the hospice gent who attempted, more than once, to so rudely slide into your work through your breathtaking enjambments? ii. I am changing the tire this morning and I …

বিষলিপি

Monsoonletters bilingual poetry anthology issue ‘বিষলিপি’ First Published February 2020 Available at The University Press Limited (UPL). You can purchase your copy of ‘বিষলিপি’ now from UPL books at https://tinyurl.com/ybdj8eo7 Get your copy while stocks last!

নাগরিক রাবণ

নাগরিক প্রাণ আমি প্রকৃতির উদারতায় তাই বদহজম নাগরিক ঘ্রাণ আমি নাগরিক জনে-জালে আটকে জীবন; আমি নগরীর অভিশপ্ত পণ নিঃশ্বাসে যে ঢালে অন্তর্বিষ অনর্গল, অনুশোচনা কেবল – দীর্ঘজীবী হতে থাকে নাগরিক রাবণ।। কী জানি ফাঁকা, এক্কেবারে ফাঁকা লাগছে এগোচ্ছে না কিছুই, না মন না শরীর- নাহ্ কিচ্ছু না বুকটা ঢিবঢিব দিনটা নিবনিব জোঁকের মত সিঁটিয়ে যাচ্ছে …