by Junpei Tarashi | Oct 19, 2023 | 2023 April, Poetry
The Banana spider has a date with the moon. She’s cleaning her shimmering bullseye where she holds court, reeling out those delicate wisps that restrain her captives. She awaits the moon’s inching ascent through laddered strands where it beckons small night creatures...
by Junpei Tarashi | Oct 18, 2023 | 2023 October, Poetry
She picks me up, CD player blasting the voices of a thousand women, together in ceremony. Leaves blur together yelloworangered passing by, as my own voice joins them, the air whooshing through open windows, in agreement. A dull ache in my belly contracts to the beat,...
by Junpei Tarashi | May 22, 2023 | 2023 May, Poetry
My son has a mouth like the Red Sea, parting in two perfect halves, the gums sprays of spit over them. Oooh ooh ooh, he cries, teething. A small nub on the lower left, white, arching, a whale. I had wondered as a child about the marine life when God commanded Moses to...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | May 13, 2023 | 2023 April, Poetry
The legless lady ghost dangles from a coat-hanger of darkness, refuses to leave. She’s what passes for uselessness ever since I pulled up a blanket to cover both myself and the thin man beside me. I mean her death no harm, but she is none – the none that was there...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | May 13, 2023 | 2023 March, Poetry
(after Learning about Constellations by Saddiq Dzukogi) Today my father is not dead; he is 73 And his blessing in impeccable disguise A sensible 27 years too early, too late Quick, I need a crash course Nauseating means of preservation A rendezvous at 1:42pm And how...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | May 13, 2023 | 2023 March, Poetry
by the time the warnings come around my eyes are hollows, troops move in, reverse the sky, family, friends, with knives in their backs, I can feel the unwinding, posters stuck on every pole & wall of some killer posing as a god, survivors pay for the privilege of...
