Poetry
Silk Veil
The Sukshma Series is a first-hand account of an educated woman of post-colonial India reflecting on how the social and political set-up of the country defined the status of an Indian woman.
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Poetry
Showing 457-480 of 691 pieces
Poetry
Nothing Survives
Words leap over words Trounce each other Silence survives. Time runs over time Flatten each other Memory survives. Pages pile over pages Bury each other..
Poetry
Flowering
There is a sunflower erupting through the simian crease of my right palm. I shed layer after layer of salty skin till the petals glow..
Poetry
In the City of Panorama
Some trees are male, some female; Our house had four of them, And though I circled them every day as a kid— Looking for any..
Poetry
Two Scenes
1. A man reads the newspaper as if his son would turn up on page three. The chaiwallah makes a cutting, not because a half..
Poetry
Burnt Brown
As far as I can see, the trees brown beneath fall’s frost. Mother’s skin is marred by age spots as death’s knell calls frost. Forests..
Poetry
Classical Chinese Poems from Song Dynasty
In this section we present a series of Chinese Classical poetry translated by Gary Young.
Poetry
Kitchenette
The Sukshma Series is a first-hand account of an educated woman of post-colonial India reflecting on how the social and political set-up of the country defined the status of an Indian woman.
Poetry
Anthill at the mailbox post
There comes a point for us allwhen more peoplewe know have diedthan still live.You know that in a churchsomewhere a crowdplays Bingo while in anothera..
Poetry
Stilettos
You should never wear stilettos, they are evil, my mother used to say. Her other life advice included, Do not wax your arms, or shape..
Poetry
Unturned
The Sukshma Series is a first-hand account of an educated woman of post-colonial India reflecting on how the social and political set-up of the country defined the status of an Indian woman.
Poetry
Our English Cousin (2)
(Without covering the tedious detailsthat would have to happen beforesuch a provision would be realized),since in my will I made a bequest“to found at Washington,under..
Poetry
Summit
They put a robot car on Mars to take pictures of rocks.It takes quite a while for the data to come back. About my future,..
Poetry
Droog 76
Our last bottle finishedno said my Russian friendthere are always seven drops leftseemed empty to me he holds the bottle up and waitsexactly seven dropsthere..
Poetry
THE WINTER EVERY PEN STOPPED WRITING WHILE THERE WAS STILL PLENTY OF INK LEFT
was not a metaphor, and I like to thinkthe weed wasn’t either, the wayit took me three monthsto smoke half an ouncebecause I had one..
Poetry
MY FATHER’S FATHER HAD SYPHILIS
He was a peddler in a horse-drawn wagon that sank beneath a load of watermelons, canary-yellow corn, bushels of gladiolas and mountains of ruby-red grapes…
Poetry
The Pistol as Means of Communication
To not go home in January, I will burn my new calendars, as if they were bridges. An exercise just for show? What do you..
Poetry
Queen of the Cosmos
The pink dogwood buds pop on green branch.In St. Peters church: beneath the Lucite cross, from his snowy mountain, rajastic in white,Father Conri gives a..
Poetry
C’est Fini
The credits roll and the audience applauds on their feet.The sunset’s colors bid adieu before the night cloaks the earth.The last leaf of autumn floats..
Poetry
A Vigil on Tiger Hill
The dark climb before dawnto catch the first lightbefore it grows common.Windows rolled downto un-spelled anagramsall over night’s loose gown. Memory of an early downpourIn..
Poetry
UNFOUND
If it was true, if it was true, I would be sitting at one windowAll one morning, testing the strength of the color blue. Is..
Poetry
The Payoff
Simply press the shutter halfway downto activate the metering system. Initially, you may find the system irksome,but may soon recognize its value. You’ll realize your..
Poetry
A Nilgai Deer in the City of Delhi
Between the high walland the roadwith six lines of trafficon a scrap of dried out soil under a dried up treea deer standsin the very..
Poetry
Coming to grips with the sound of water
I should live in Tucson or somewhere parched, with no water of its own, anyplace that can only provide me a few critical drops a..