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Drinking With a Priest Later the priest moots, "Some dying men stares at me, holds their gaze as if by the power death has vested in them they can see through me and my faith and how I think about something else, perchance about tomorrow's lunch. In the life's Venn diagram death is ∩, and at that point being and beyond intersects. A man can see or accept the truth of his lifelong blindness." The beers in front of us sucks the warmth of the room. They taste acerbic. Through the orange translucency we can see eachother, a little distorted. I wish I could see the words compadre expects to hear, but this is not that day. Rabbit, Dance No trace of the magician, a shot glass of jazz left full on the table, I decide to convey the bad news to the organisers later, and shake my head; the rabbit maze-running inside won't fall out. I pick up the glass from the table. Now I dance with the shadow, a rabbit in me. The grass of silence undulates. The audience waiting out there sounds like an orchestra of crickets in the befouled greenroom. 3 new poems by Kushal Poddar : “Cabin Song” “Earlier””The O of the Sky” Poetry Showcase from Kushal Poddar A Poetry Series by Kushal Poddar “Hiraeth Series”
Check out Kushal’s new book through IceFloe Press.
Fevers of the Mind 
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