Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
The sonorous yield of speech
over-spilt—fraternal sounds, cataleptic,
leave folded
the message in their trail, oh indecent burial
Above, the great sky of furor:
impossible to see the rim of the epoch.
The day’s figures collapse into night’s bowl:
I think of your death, as a flower
senses the ruin of dried petals
in moist soil
as
the sudden appearance of
an invisible cord
between
us
The mound is figure, is yam,
is twain: you and not-you
I do not know you
The day’s figures collapse into night’s bowl:
its light strikes
at the root of life’s wager:
chronic dialectic
and sooner than before we
move ahead of ourselves, I
look at the sky no more. A day’s work
is a month’s seed, and a year’s
toll against such onslaught.
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