by Destiny Weiss | Jun 5, 2024 | 2024 June, Poetry
Hypnagogic In the passenger seat, The haze of melancholy and The impressionism Of a drizzle-stippled windshield, Glad memories shining through Like brake lights, Until I stir and say, Do you remember the time— And you do. And you ask me in kind, As if fidelity Were a...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | May 31, 2024 | 2024 May, Poetry
“I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.” –Robert Frost, “Acquainted with the Night” they have decorated everythingwith boredom. The walls are madeof brick ennui and the carpets are Saxony apathy and the doors are an impressivefiberglass weariness. The vet...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | May 29, 2024 | 2024 May, Poetry
The old sugar maple that no longer has a lush crown of leaves, still has paved the ground with scarlet, orange, golden and all gradients. Even in its old age, in summer a city of many birds. Now the fallen leaves are the brightest things around with few flowers still...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | May 28, 2024 | 2024 May, Poetry
why is my throat not a garden from my childhood every morning I suffocate from the lies of the weather and dirt
by Surosree Chaudhuri | May 26, 2024 | 2024 May, Poetry
I wish I could frame this — this feeling right here, see? Not a mischievous specter at the edge; no — this one’s a dandelion yellow juggernaut right at the center. Life is such a peppy innovator, is it not? With its funny Rube Goldberg machines plunking us to spots so...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | May 25, 2024 | 2024 May, Poetry
I don’t. You just read a lot of my PTSD poems, I say. I don’t know how to write a PTSD poem. PTSD makes it so you can’t write. Instead you just sit there, staring at the newspaper, not able to read. Instead, people read me like the news. They read my scars, one that...
