written by: Kushal Poddar
A heavy bottom cloud rides
one mystical dildo of some place of worship.
If you do not know monsoon know this –
it doesn’t arrive; it suddenly exists.
The blades of grass stridulate a muddy war
history of heart remembers for bloodiness.
Suddenly the mind ceases.
The pit proves its life.
If you do not know what you know stare
at the pane – the thick thighs of rain
throttle the monuments.
Poet and a father, Kushal Poddar, edited a magazine - ‘Words Surfacing’, authored seven volumes of poetry including ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, 'A Place For Your Ghost Animals', 'Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems' and 'Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel'.
Latest posts by Kushal Poddar (see all)
- After The Burial - October 6, 2021
- Apocalypse - June 2, 2021
- Monsoon - July 29, 2020