Just another South Asian Poem (Searching for Tagore)

It seems I will never be The quintessential South Asian poet. For once, I don’t use the word mango Often enough, and I’m Sri Lankan, which Means, I don’t have the mojo to make it As an international poet. In this part of the world, Tagore’s songs still serenade nature In all her effluence; the…

Read More

Rejection

You just had a poem Rejected by the New Yorker. The foul smell of defeat, you’re accustomed to,, Volatilizes like a solution of slippery ether. And all that remains at the end, Is a different aether, the fifth element Flaming on your sixth sense, No phlogiston, just a perfect medium, With no room for air,…

Read More

Mango

On my front yard Is a mango tree, which becomes Like a constellation at night No stars here though, just nature’s bulbs And a mango, you learn Has a big seed and forms a near Kidney shaped fruit. Pealing a mango is like Pealing passion off a woman You have succulence dripping against Your mouth…

Read More

Dilution

The days that golliwogs were scarecrows Are gone. Now doves roost Inside golliwog hearts. Onyx Is now valued not for the saturation of color But for the chemistry. There are no More scapegoats for hate, only Clones of Othello, whose hearts Are captured by Desdemonas. And dark is beautiful now, from America to India, where…

Read More

Friendship

You learn something new everyday. Like how a conversation That doesn’t mean anything Can unzip you or prick the bubble You’re wading in to the tide Learning that the sand moves towards The sea, in slow deposition. And A shoulder, is like that too. You shift towards a bough of flesh Who wears the empathy…

Read More

Fat Man

I’m a tuber eater And that doesn’t make me a Starch reservoir. I’m just fat, As fat as the keg flowing with Enchanting liquids. Yes, I’m a drunk that doesn’t know Right from left, when inebriated, An obese drunk to be precise. And in this conscription of weight You look at the fat blobs And…

Read More