Like shivering stars sprinkled over a black carpet of tonight, the silver bubbles rise from the bottom of the ocean of my mind and like the stars, linked together into animals and heroes – all by us, they, too, linked together,
Wide-opened arms of the poem embrace the solitary flame, dancing alone in this dark. while the book kept aside a girl of half nightingale and devil of another descends Through creviced shells of poetry. “What more do you know about the dark?”
Hair traitorous grey shameful need to pretend anti aging. Plucking, dilapidating; dyeing, dying. Betrayal of knees, hands, feet, neck (knees!) circled & magnified, almost expired — quick sale! The male body needing no such revision. His landscape a shameless prairie
This word that keeps poppin’ on my Instagram feed Means so little, so it seems To crafty marketers and vacuous beauties Hash-tagging like tomorrow Will never come Kindled to autoignition point, Melanin shot golden stars out of their hiding places
As an editor of anthologies of fiction from South Asia and Australia, I have the privilege of reading original, creative and gripping stories. My work with South Asian, Australian and South Asian—Australian writers and academics led me to my research for
Why all this vilification, boy? Had you thought that I was your toy? That my every day and every night Was dedicated solely to you by right? Designed, was I, to pledge you my troth, By vocation and avocation, both?
You see, You are much too old. Your river seeks canyons to carve. Your melodies are not music. Not yet. Your language is yet to be born. You are of the Sea, the Earth, the Breeze. You are Freedom. You are
Let the marching swallow, let the battalions breathe, Let the olive wreath be upon their swords, Let their mind encompass a peaceful tree And say; ‘Let’s fight this war and bring harmony’ Man against man, rivers of red, Neither party