Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Kushal Poddar writes

Riding The Rain Train
A glib paper cup 
refills itself in rain. 
Train's pane jellies.
Your side face 
is the part of a town 
we just crossed. 
And its market, station, 
man riding his sleep, 
crows on a garbage heap, 
trees longing for 
the tiredness of 
twelve o'clock birds.
You remain tipsy
on rain tea infusion,
eyes shut, metals
unthreaded in your dream.
A field opens.

 Rain Train -- Rich Booth


  1. Your poem has energized me.Thank you Kushal.

    Sanjeev Sethi

  2. This is essential Kushal. Original, surrealist, magic realism born of actual things he observes in his reality. This is the Kushal I most adore. Nothing homogenous about it. All my senses engaged.


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