Poetry

"...I was not a new man, nor a good man, but I was a beginning man..."

"...I was excited, had never met an artist before..."

"...Like whalers trying to harpoon..."

"...Sometimes the kids would beg 'Can we get chocolate, Mom?'..."

"...I crave the chance to turn my heater on..."

"...see Africa in her purity, totality and dignity..."

"...laughter echoes cruelly across the moonless night..."

"...the intimacy of song, the air whispering..."

Joel Bush reads things. He also writes things. Well, sometimes he reads the things he writes. That tends to help.

"...enjoy your ice cream and cookies..."

"...transform the heavy leaden flesh of age back to the bloom ..."

"...There are no bridges or tunnels or hidden shortcuts..."

"It didn’t matter that I was at the wheel..."

"...No one knows how long it’s waited..."

"...If light don’t come, try another door..."

"...The snoring was sudden and deep!..."

Memories in haiku

"...in the breast pocket of an imitation leather jacket forgotten..."

Collaborative Tan-renga

"...Planning is a holophrase for hiatus..."

"...humble, soiled, marbled with life..."

"...a slave of our first meeting..."

"...So many have dedicated their lives in her name..."

"...the word ‘who?’ never crossed my mind..."

"...How he died no one knows..."

"...A mentor to many. An iconic, lovely lady..."

Sparsh Paul is a poet, writer and bedroom musician based in New Delhi, India. He actively immerses himself in the practice of shinrin-yoku, and is a hobbyist bird photographer.

"...I doubt a lover’s tryst ever happened here..."

"...It’s a quiet Saturday night..."

"...Soon enough he’ll come to know..."