Swagato Saha : Writing

Fugue

Fugue

A Poem by Swagato Saha


An attempt to understand the ways in which memory severs, loses its material ties under the influence of private pathologies. Perhaps why the most int..
Discrete Infinity

Discrete Infinity

A Poem by Swagato Saha


What if the coordinates of reason misperceive chance encounters as portending deeper meaning? I have in mind the modern-day academic, and as if a clas..
Quaking Floors

Quaking Floors

A Poem by Swagato Saha


Why was it so the infant eye,Midst dry summons of nameless sense,On the ashen face did decide?Through guarded doors and curtains tense.Whence all ston..
New Light

New Light

A Poem by Swagato Saha


To listless maps stood sparsely strewn,Asked the wanton wave - "How then name?The pallor of green by silver moons?Or evening's blue to sodiate flames?..
The Poverty of Worlds

The Poverty of Worlds

A Poem by Swagato Saha


To whose whispered spell my fancies sway? 'Gainst solidity, good sense'd surmise,Seduced by unruly visions that play, Sublime mechanisms of demise! As..
Impossible Conversation

Impossible Conversation

A Poem by Swagato Saha


Closed-form of still sentences wreathe,Opaque to an other's invades,Circle-terms on restless repeat;Where phantom conversations wait.While questions p..
Equation's Interim

Equation's Interim

A Poem by Swagato Saha


What's a silent glow to late night's retreat?As sapphire stardust on a stone-eyed street -Eludes clockwork and the lantern's slow burn,Where dream ye ..
Dotting the i's

Dotting the i's

A Poem by Swagato Saha


Do join me then at decade's close?What's become - of punctuated weeks,Suspended now at midnight's toll,Ha'e left us a moment to speak.Then to part way..
Return to Nothing

Return to Nothing

A Poem by Swagato Saha


I hold my heart to the mountain blades,Sensing there not a spying soul,I search thy still, o' stray cascades -Forgotten depths whence verses flow.A lo..
The Well-Tempered Atelier

The Well-Tempered Atelier

A Poem by Swagato Saha


On fragments' wait the kind stitching hand,Now serves at the veil of day,To every stray inconsistent strand,It tends... to tempered array."Condemned t..

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