Preface to Alphabet. It was May 2008. I had just finished reading Louis de Bernières’ Birds without wings when hate spread her ugly wings, over Johannesburg. They called it xenophobia! Phobia is fear This was raw idiotic cannibalistic atavistic animal hate! So Louis de Bernières description or the raw idiotic…
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When I put her out, once, by the garbage pail,She looked so limp and bedraggled,So foolish and trusting, like a sick poodle,Or a wizened aster in late September,I brought her back in againFor a new routine–Vitamins, water, and whateverSustenance seemed sensibleAt the time: she’d livedSo long on gin, bobbie pins,…
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. . .do not feelthat i am distant in your miragethat i am hidden from you mosaicthat i am fading from your canvass . . .i am an orphan these daysbereaved by life’s cruel cudgelsentenced to crumbs and dropletsbandaged to the whims of betrayed hopes . . . love is…
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Baka Jaouad Je pensais à elle, à nous ; que j’étais morose !De l’amour jamais je ne cueillerais la rose.Séant, mon front posé sur ma main incolore,Je crois avoir touché de la folie les bords.C’est beau un ciel nocturne grouillant de claires étoiles.La lune semble me comprendre, de mes peines j’ôte les…
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The landings of this world are rehearsed: And so the heron sinks into the water and the deer Joins in the flood, and so the face of one’s mother joins The lies that save her face: Always there is war flaming in South Africa Always empires are dying and refueling…
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Yakoute Abdouroihamane Où rien n’est défunt Les purs des fruits à gogo Comme si le tam-tam résonne le tango. Un endroit où santé est prospérité Quel genre de vie sans une priorité Il est vrai que la mer est capricieuse Pour y nager la sirène doit être malicieuse. Parait-il que…
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Amitabh Mitra the road to cecilia makiwane hospital is subtle to an extent the dead treads softly here not to awaken the shadows living in the confluence of dread and disparity the sky occasionally moves down and it is then the trees leap to search the forgotten driving down to…
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Amitabh Mitra an evening creaks in touching shadows with a tinge of smile a slow release laughter aloe and wild grass shake to jazz moments tiredness breaks its shackles ran the curves of a distant sun words lost its way home as usual a poem unwound itself from an angle…
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Amitabh Mitra we met at a thimphu sunday flea market there was mist all over the crowd spoke in gregarious tones like mountains hunting for lost ones there was mist on her face her lips balanced an era of happening mist on her kira hiding somebody whispered that’s dashoam our…
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Little Fly,Thy summer’s playMy thoughtless handHas brushed away. Am not IA fly like thee?Or art not thouA man like me? For I danceAnd drink, and sing,Till some blind handShall brush my wing. If thought is lifeAnd strength and breathAnd the wantOf thought is death; Then am IA happy fly,If I…
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Multicoloured pamphlets flutter in the breezeTelling of the suffering and multiplying painMulticoloured leaflets dropping from the treesThe crying of the multiplying forest in the rain Multicoloured raindrops falling from the skiesSplashing in a multiplying lake before my eyesMulticoloured teardrops on frightened little faceThe crying of a baby in the multiplying…