by Surosree Chaudhuri | Dec 3, 2022 | 2022 September, Poetry
Kilometros de campos, miles of corn growing more green, creciendo más verdes. Land—not clay, sandy—arcilla, arenosa. Cada granja, each farm, no bridge a la otra. Los silos, molinos de viento— Silos, windmills, el maíz, cielo. Cuando el cielo está más despejado se cae...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Dec 3, 2022 | 2022 September, Poetry
Brushed from evening’s attic, A profusion of powdered hues – Rain-softened green, citron Yellow and a dusky-gray bleeding To blue – fluttering like clouds Of dust illuminated by the throw Of light, eager to expose their wings And tiny contusions of body to the Black...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Sep 7, 2022 | 2022 July, Poetry
I hear you brothers. I hear you sisters. of Basra. I hear your wailing criesover your children dying of cancer,over your dead rivers, over your charcoal skies that send the sun scurrying away ...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Sep 7, 2022 | 2022 July, Flash Fiction
“The water” crawls down the length of your arm, and as always, you reach to sweep it off, only to see nothing. “But it feels wet and cold running down my skin,” so you tell Iorfa, your great grandson, “only I cannot stop it.” Iorfa...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Sep 7, 2022 | 2022 June, Poetry
Rent apart by two serpents to create the world, her body became the earth and sky, hair, the trees and flowers; springs and fountains flowed from her eyes – humanity expelled with a grimace from her haunches: Only the blood of men could appease her for what she...
