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 …

ভবিষ্যৎ মৃত্যু

দুটো বুলেট নিয়ে দুটো রিভালভারে, ঠিক তাক করব দুজন দুজনের দিকে ঠিক সেখানটায় যেখানে তুমি কালো টিপ পরে থাকতে, আর আমার কপালের মাঝ বরাবর, যেখানে তুমি হরহামেশা চুমু আঁকতে। মনে বাজবে শরতের সুর, বাতাস বইতে থাকবে হালকা করে। হ্যাঁ অবশ্যই তোমার ওড়না উড়বে সামান্য। দুলবে খানিক। কিছুটা মাতাল হওয়াও যেতে পারে। যেন কিছুটা শুটিংস্পটের মতো …

ফেরা

-মা অপেক্ষায় ছেলে ফিরবে স্যুট-টাই পড়ে বাবুমশাই হয়ে লাল জিপের গাড়ি নিয়ে। -ছেলে ফিরলো সাইরেন বাজিয়ে মস্ত বড় এম্বুলেন্স সাদা কফিন বন্দি লাশ! ছেলের শেষ চিঠি, মা কিভাবে পারলে আমাকে একটা অন্ধকার কসাই খানায় একা ছেড়ে দিতে!

Unpoetically

Few words and a starting line You’re not a poet Using commas, abusing aroma You’re not a poet Trying to rhyme with words that don’t align You’re not a poet Forget rhymes, putting emphasis on life You’re not a poet Using abstract rigid words as an idiom You’re not a poet Philosophical pondering, meaning lost …

Love’s Fading

Thirty minutes to midnight And he approached me, steadily with tired bare feet, Spotlighted by the full moon; He was wearing a white shirt, Top two buttons missing, Unwashed for at least a month or so, Fashionably knee-cut faded jeans, However, the cuts resemble Years of capitalist abuse; His eyes were intriguing, With his iris …

Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain — a pioneer of women’s education who strove for a feminist utopia

Where are the men?’ I asked her. ‘In their proper places, where they ought to be… We shut our men indoors.’ Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain’s seminal science fiction short story ‘Sultana’s Dream’ depicted a feminist utopia, and was one of the first fictional works in India to do so. However, it never really received the fame and recognition that …

The Piss Song

I made love at war sites.At Hiroshima, at Nanjing, at DhakaI ran through blood and the fresh paints.I sang through the cracks of the new buildings,Caressed the strong, high monuments as they were raised. One woman smirked,“You can’t do it like that,You have to sit on it,and please!” One man stared,“You go girl,Undo yourself,Let not …

Shifting the Focus From Sylvia Plath’s Tragic Death to Her Brilliant Life

RED COMETThe Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia PlathBy Heather Clark What becomes a legend most? As suggested by the old black-and-white Blackglama fur ads, featuring Lena Horne, Diana Vreeland and Cher, among others, legends are people who have soared beyond fame or celebrity into a more rarefied, inaccessible stratosphere. Today’s media-fixated, Kardashian-dominated world …