Poems of Jayanta Mahapatra
|1.||A rain of rites||12/27/2013|
|2.||A Summer Poem||12/27/2013|
|4.||Dawn at puri||12/27/2013|
|10.||Main temple street||12/27/2013|
|13.||Taste for Tomorrow||12/27/2013|
|14.||The Captive Air of Chandipur-on-Sea||12/27/2013|
|15.||The Indian Way||12/27/2013|
|16.||The Moon Moments||12/27/2013|
It was hard to believe the flesh was heavy on my back.
The fisherman said: Will you have her, carelessly,
trailing his nets and his nerves, as though his words
sanctified the purpose with which he faced himself.
I saw his white bone thrash his eyes.
I followed him across the sprawling sands,
my mind thumping in the flesh's sling.
Hope lay perhaps in burning the house I lived in.