by Surosree Chaudhuri | Jul 22, 2022 | 2022 June, Poetry
for the dissonance of my heritage // for the fact that I was too hungry // for the consternation in your face when you saw the simmering celery, lime green instead of forest // for every name you have for me I am composting the congealed rice // for all of this I am...
by Junpei Tarashi | Jul 22, 2022 | 2022 June, Poetry
On SAWAYAMA, Rina is emblazoned in gold, eyes staring straight forward and bronzed nails tapping her lips andshe sings about excess, she is everything, she is paradise. When I was fourteen I went to a high school play for a date and watched Midasturn...
by Junpei Tarashi | May 28, 2022 | 2022 May, Poetry
the doctor wants to know why you’re angry. you shrug. the bees are dying. and that just doesn’t seem fair. she informs you that anger is a “secondary emotion.” that what you really are is sad, or guilty, or deeply, desperately afraid. you dismiss, but not six...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | May 1, 2022 | 2022 April, Poetry
A continental wave driftsacross the world as my gut bursts with laughterlike the mall santa during the holiday season, A sign of consumerism. My heart doesn’t ache,My mind justwanders as water across a canvasof coated steel. I love it, I can see them ...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Apr 30, 2022 | 2022 April, Poetry
I – the toxinpearly grey bane in palm sized perfume bottlestwo drops added to beetroot soup and served for supperso the antidote can dissolve their crueltylike flaking frost in the midday sunsinking its teeth into wicked, brutish fistsmaking them limp as their...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Apr 20, 2022 | 2022 April, Poetry
She made her living delivering phone sex. Her looks were immaterial. Her tongue, her throat, her voice – those were the curves, the siren eyes, the dress tightened round the thigh like a hangman’s rope. Her kid tucked in, prayers said, it was time to tell strangers...
