Saturday, May 7, 2011

150th Anniversary of Rabindranath Tagore’s Birth

















Seashell
fragments
spoke
and scratched;
split and raveled catch-
filled nets.

No boat,
no boatman,
passes.

On cyan Kali’s
mother spray
the seining labor’s
lighter,
now ripened in
the bay’s effulgence
milk of salt is whiter.

I speak of what the
world neglects,
                     take
it on myself:

the pool, the
lota, sacred waters,
in the waves
the coiling milt.

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