Poet in Delhi

Poet in Delhi by Manash Bhattacharjee

Can you rinse away this city that lastslike blood on the bitten tongue?~ Agha Shahid Ali Delhi,where parrots liftthe weight of tombs,poets offer daggersto deepen...

Review | The Triumph of Cancer by Chris McCabe

The scientific language used by doctors to describe cancer—the uncontrollable growth of a single cell—is often mystifying and alienating. Can the experience of cancer...

Acrostic by Sudeep Sen

(R.I.P. Derek Walcott: January 23, 1930 – March 17, 2017)Deep seas of yesteryears wash new froth on your home shores. Egrets, sea gulls, circle the...

Poetry | Atlantic Palimpsest by Kerri ní Dochartaigh

-for Heaney and the Peace BridgeGrey and greying sky reflected in choppy body, as our matching heron performs his balancing act for all to see.The Donegal hills,...

Poetry | Hidden Time by Alan Zhukovski

They live inside the warmth of typing fingers, inside the ghostly glass of hidden years you wanted to implant inside this week. The doors and windows to...

Poetry | A Letter from Brooklyn by Derek Walcott

Derek WalcottA Letter from Brooklyn An old lady writes me in a spidery style, Each character trembling, and I see a veined hand Pellucid as paper, travelling...

Pigeons by Kate Bingham

IIt’s just the same old air a person breathes, roughly the same respiratory system, steady compared with ours, the same idea of hindrance (flesh the breath must...

Snowbound by Michael O’Neill

SnowboundCarriages lit and still between the drifts ... With each flake it took on a new form, the city they seemed exiled from --- almost a sad,...

The Teacher by Manash Bhattacharjee

To Upal DebHe wasn’t a blackboard Framing flightless birds Not a classroom figure Offering the curriculum To rows of bored facesHe sat on his bed facing The window Van...

His Bottom Lip by Rachel Long

Clitoral, like finding a small, hidden part of myself in someone else. Nerve-wet, fleshy - for a white guy, and stained between life-lines with red wine gone black. Only this...

Poetry | The Line by Fiona Sampson

White trunks divide the dark beside the line and in the dusk trees pausesince if they do not move they cannot see themselves or know this moment has...

The Lighthouse by Michael Shann

The Lighthouse Markhouse RoadSo far from the wine-dark sea, a displaced monument to faith and absurdityat the turn of a neat, Victorian street. Still, the treacherous rocks...

They Would Have All That by Mary Jean Chan

To sing the evening home, the lover prepares a pot of lentil stew – her phone lighting up to the news of love’s imminent arrival, imaginingher lover’s...
SYRIA by Ghayth Armanazi

SYRIA by Ghayth Armanazi

SUFFER THE COUNTRY Suffer the curled up corpses of the tortured Suffer the cluttered ranks of the bound and the beaten Suffer the pleading eyes of those...

Last Heron by Stella Davis

Last HeronAs the last heron goes, rooks fall from the sky like old black rags to carpet the new-laid field. ____________________Six days now, six days and nights without rain...

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