FENCE
http://www.maverickmagazine.com/articles/81/1/FENCE/Page1.html
Aryanil Mukherjee
Aryanil Mukherjee was born in Calcutta, India a year after Allen Ginsberg and Peter Orlovsky left the city in 1963 after a prolonged 15 months stay. He grew up with lingering memories of the Bangladesh war (1971), curfew-ridden cities and color mosaics in art classes. He writes in Bengali while constantly translating and transcreating them into English. Featured in parallel literary movements, published widely in Bengali poetry circles, his first collection KHELAR NAAM SABUJAYAN (The Greening Game) was published in the Calcutta International Book Fair during Spring 2000. Aryanil migrated to the United States in 1995. An engineering software writer by profession, he works and lives in Cincinnati, Ohio. Aryanil edits KAURAB, the only Indian Poetry Magazine on the worldwide web at: http://www.kaurab.tripod.comBy Aryanil Mukherjee
Published on 04/5/2000
You are always behind a fence
You are always aimless, while walking
While suddenly snaking my arms
And I sense fences even then
Like the Magnolia has its fence
The fencing at the end of Hyde Road
Like the rummaged green shirt on the fence
The Eucalyptus threw them at us
I think of you, and those two
human shadows at dawn
One face submerged in another, uniting mouths
One face sculpts, the other, its art
I came to the edge of your easy stream
But fences, sharp fences
Prevent.
Your flower, still unplucked.
In dark channels you dont see blood turmoils
Bends, folds, excrutiates itself out
Jumps over the neighbors fence
into unreadable swirls of rose.
Copyright © Aryanil Mukherjee2000. All Rights Reserved.
You are always behind a fence
You are always aimless, while walking
While suddenly snaking my arms
And I sense fences even then
Like the Magnolia has its fence
The fencing at the end of Hyde Road
Like the rummaged green shirt on the fence
The Eucalyptus threw them at us
You are always aimless, while walking
While suddenly snaking my arms
And I sense fences even then
Like the Magnolia has its fence
The fencing at the end of Hyde Road
Like the rummaged green shirt on the fence
The Eucalyptus threw them at us
You are always behind a fence
You are always aimless, while walking
While suddenly snaking my arms
And I sense fences even then
Like the Magnolia has its fence
The fencing at the end of Hyde Road
Like the rummaged green shirt on the fence
The Eucalyptus threw them at us
I think of you, and those two
human shadows at dawn
One face submerged in another, uniting mouths
One face sculpts, the other, its art
I came to the edge of your easy stream
But fences, sharp fences
Prevent.
Your flower, still unplucked.
In dark channels you dont see blood turmoils
Bends, folds, excrutiates itself out
Jumps over the neighbors fence
into unreadable swirls of rose.
Copyright © Aryanil Mukherjee2000. All Rights Reserved.