Poetry
POETRY / The creek drank the sorrows you sang to
Rose-tinted glasses are just red, and I have painted myself with the color now that the hollow of your eyes isn’t there, now that
POETRY / Hazardous miasma
The night smoke carries out the riots of innocents,
POETRY / Silent friday
Somehow, the taste of tear gas
POETRY / Jabar bela fele jeo ekti khopar phul
Leave a flower from your bun when you depart, my love.
POETRY / Swapane eshechilo mridubhashini
Translated by Mohammad Shafiqul Islam
POETRY / Survival tactics for “peaceful” protests
Stay in a group, never in alleyways
POETRY / Look out the windows
In the blanks of muddy moonlight
POETRY / Magic boys and girls of Bangladesh
Magic boys and girls of Bangladesh, I love you.
POETRY / All hail July
The July wind brought in the scent of new beginnings
A Dead River is All I Want
You know those instances when we start off in the wide, turbulent currents of a river making its way downstream?
In the absence of a light source
Grief is a lonely river, like a fisherman's song with an empty net
Kobi-rani
I am a poet because you love me
Mor ghumo ghore ele monohar
In my deep sleep, you came, my love—
A childhood memory
Dust patterns have gathered around my landline phone, huddling around the maroon. my fingerprints take some dust off of it, and they rejoice.
Anonto prem
I wove necklaces of lyrics/ Which you'd wear beautifully
Je chilo amar shopnocharini
You called me close in the moments of grace/ Veiling my delicate senses
Shedin dujone dulachinu bone
You know how that day the wind brought out/ The crazy thoughts I had in me all the while.
A building, a tree, and a kid
Buckets of water I pour on my head; my vision gets blurry./ "The blurrier, the merrier", my mother said.
Narcolepsy days
For poet Abul Hasan Neither the pen nor the camera has changed
