by Surosree Chaudhuri | Feb 2, 2022 | 2022 January, Poetry
A hunter grows in this place Between rings on the tail And sleep turning sun to flowers. November bleeds blankness. A dog slobbers in its waking. A cat meows extended scowls. The hunter’s son murmurs To think anyone could kill a thing so pretty. Finale descends...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Jan 20, 2022 | 2022 January, Poetry
to attend to the reality of yr situationall the demands emails phone callstexts and debits yr not to ignore them and boogie boarddrink pilsen beer afterward notea mild sunburn along the gold coast little dirt-colored crabs scuttlingeverywhere new construction on the...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Oct 3, 2021 | 2021, Flash Fiction, September
“Does he take you on picnics?” she asks. He does. But you are much too contemporary to think he takes you on them. You take yourself. With him. She pffs. A shadow crosses her face. “On Sundays?” “On Anydays,” You tell her. She wants to know if you pack cheese and...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Sep 24, 2021 | 2021, Flash Fiction, September
Don’t tell Eli. But I keep one of her bottles in my backpack. One of these days, a big announcement is going to go out on the radio saying it’s all over and things can go back to how they used to be. We won’t have to walk every day and sleep in a tent, praying another...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Sep 18, 2021 | 2021, Poetry, September
mirage by John Sweet https://www.agapanthuscollective.com.dream.website/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/mirage_-_john_sweet.m4a drugstore at the farthest edge of the desert but we had a map, had my hands in your blood, had your teeth in my heart...
