Verse – Fabrice Poussin
He, The Palimpsest Layer upon layer, he walks as if never clothed; fighting a bitter cold day of high Texas August, seemingly tracked in a city desert of millions. To scream a cry for help or shed a...
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Reflection Standing in front of the floor looking glass, alone, eyes open that see not a shape, not a line, not a smile. She left long ago, for it was late in her young life and she must experience...
View ArticleVerse – Fabrice Poussin
Wind of a Gentle Soul He spoke to me again this night in the moving waves above, taking droplets of a refreshing dew to so many blank sheets, writing his memories on the veins, lines of his life to...
View ArticleVerse – Constantine P. Cavafy
Ithaca Translated from Greek by George Valassopoulo When you start on the way to Ithaca, wish that the way be long, full of adventure, full of knowledge. The Laestrygones and the Cyclopes and angry...
View ArticleVerse – Constantine P. Cavafy
On Hearing of Love Translated from Greek by Edmund Keeley/Philip Sherrard On hearing about powerful love, respond, be moved like an aesthete. Only, fortunate as you’ve been, remember how much your...
View ArticleProse – Verghese Kurien
Managing Socioeconomic Change: The Role of Professionals speech lndian Institute of Management Dr. Vikram Sarabhai Memorial Lecture - Ahmedabad March 7, 1978 SOMEWHERE IN THE great beyond,...
View ArticleProse – Walter Benjamin
The Storyteller : Reflections on the Works of Nikolai Leskov Essay I Familiar though his name may be to us, the storyteller in his living immediacy is by no means a present force. He has already...
View ArticleVerse – Sneha Subramanian Kanta
J. Alfred Prufrock's Letter to His Brown cousin The blue sea and white foam mix as Picasso’s color palette, but it has different veins. At noon, I rolled my flannel trousers in three folds, then...
View ArticleVerse – Sneha Subramanian Kanta
Winter in Frankfurt is a diphthong. There is a loud silence in the void of white snow that leaps over toward smaller towns. There, I recite Beethoven, with print outs of his letters to an Immortal...
View ArticleVerse – Sneha Subramanian Kanta
Postmodernist I. It was closer to dusk. The sun had gone and everything was undone, came into its original form. They walked like apparitions and shed their pre-occupations. There were billboards all...
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