In the hush—footsteps fill the laden streets, .grasshoppers teeth to return home. Veiled divine mother, .she blooms in shards—from under the rain.from beyond the sallow moon.in her lion’s gait… tidal sorrow pushing through .your swallowing metropolitan heap. .
There’s a purgatorial break between these stretches …flaxen against the lights
you don't recognise yourself, / everything is lost like a fish in Lethean space. / you have mistaken truth for love again
But talks of harmony flood your nose. / Harmony, harmony, harmony—you want it so bad, / and so you put words in our mouths
In the hush—footsteps fill the laden streets, .grasshoppers teeth to return home. Veiled divine mother, .she blooms in shards—from under the rain.from beyond the sallow moon.in her lion’s gait… tidal sorrow pushing through .your swallowing metropolitan heap. .
There’s a purgatorial break between these stretches …flaxen against the lights
you don't recognise yourself, / everything is lost like a fish in Lethean space. / you have mistaken truth for love again
Women and the earth have to tolerate a lot. –Kaajal (1965)
The first pulse, in the midst of a whipping maelstrom,
In the blanks of muddy moonlight
But talks of harmony flood your nose. / Harmony, harmony, harmony—you want it so bad, / and so you put words in our mouths
This is a garden, these are my petals; this is my armoring plant
You have made ice out of my heart;/ we were once nothing–you brutalise me
rise, rise—now evening dies: sun-born in valleys with burning olive trees—where women like me plod one day at a time,
