subhankar-das

Not only licking lips you know Lucy we had

                                  all these nerve disgorging dawns

lips in search of mystery lips

water in search of water           your face and lots of clouds

It would be wrong to call it just water

                                   There was ice made of smoke and row houses

how shadows arrive strolling and get prepared

on our electric-skin all our search all the water of dawn

Colour will cover all the burn blemishes of rain

even then we can talk of arson those life long anger

For the power of burning blood streams on guitar-chord

                                   will have to be licked clean

Now the cloud-pulps have fled after lifting the curtains

                                  Living is such a pleasure to live

that means those mile-long nerve-nets

                                  have not learned to fly

are tied to the ears of a guitar

That tree emerges from the abdomen

                                   roots and stems emerge

branches spread out of the mouth and peep

glory of the leaves starts falling from eyes

It would be wrong to call it just water

These are probably words not flesh-lumps

                                    These are probably births

Which can never be aired to you from any radio station

By Subhankar Das

Translated by Anushree Prashant and the poet.

Stretched elongated chewing-gum for a day for a winter night

hanging haggardish better take care while talking about these

again the day returns. Love prompter of the shop

encircling the fountains one by one. Grass today

I wouldn’t be able to look at. Let this alphabet be ready

this sunlight and dust. On the sleeve

there were trace of flesh of previous life and thereafter

the cloud slept aslant oozing birds

hanging elongated whiteness even now within and  outside

By Subhankar Das

Translated by Anushree Prasant

That this piece of writing is a sound.

Are you afraid of cockroaches? colourful cockroach

just after a while coloured, it becomes a butterfly, it would fly away with a flapping bit fearfully,

you would not have remembered, that

if a little bit more in hundreds.

 Helty-skelty you call your maid, then you would not have jumped up if its wings getting shaped like a plant, would not have thought of the drain, colourful it would have become,

 long long legs create shivering.

assume commode’s backside,

or of the pan of

the hole in the basin,

it sat upon your body

rather you would with devilish pleasure

 seeing this, you are pissing upon a loud cry

and ask her to kill the urinal,

the cockroach which has print friendly version

when cockroach flies in your room butterflies rather cockroaches

circle the colourful cockroach 

that girl around whose head, not

then you would have loved it.

 - gets coloured!

if while getting fallen into any of them

and trying to instead of this piece, I wish to paint a big cockroach -

small thorns in its rise with outmost effort

  cockroach

but if the cockroach too have looked coyly

or thought about