by Junpei Tarashi | Jul 17, 2021 | 2021, July, Poetry
Flying by Maggie Swofford https://www.agapanthuscollective.com.dream.website/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/Maggie-Swofford.mp3 I. It’s normal to see only darkness when you look out an airplane window on a winter evening. It’s normal to think about pulling away and...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Jun 24, 2021 | 2021, June, Poetry
You hound are a starry night over fog, fallen in love with the Epiphany. The moon may be mine! Told the moony dog. With you tender garden – is so dreamy. Bewitchment of stars, your ability. Your hunting is dearer observation. A moonlit night is your eternity. May the...
by Junpei Tarashi | Jun 9, 2021 | 2021, June, Poetry
“to breathe is a fraud” [this is an unbosomed secret, a chaperone’s murmuring parable] — “it is a gift, or fairly like it. . . with a gleam: mint and pristine”, a celibate I assume. it is a virtuous reproach deposed from gods and...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | May 27, 2021 | 2021, May, Poetry
is where i start the thought before it wings off, lost in darting shadow. the finch atop the clothesline might be the same as always or else the 27th of this aviary whose residents i aim to distinguish by differences in beak. meaning: mouth; further translated: their...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | May 20, 2021 | 2021, May, Poetry
I can barely see my floor for all the mess and I haven’t washed my hair in 4 days. I don’t know what I need but what I want is someone to scoop up my sun-melt by the moon-glow at times like this when I completely lose myself. When I lose my purpose. I want...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | May 6, 2021 | 2021, May, Poetry
The growth inside you, you can only guess exists– the strengthening malignant allium a tumor blossomed & when your stomach fails to digest you leave your house in pain to meet me at the bar & fuck, you needed a job with benefits but I, too, lack insurance...
