Poetry at Sangam



Sketch by Stephen Collis

Memory is identity
smacks of hubris
I remember a lake
the reading of
certain novels travel
to an old country
my grandmother
my father’s death
which I’ve yet
crawled from under
that which is supposed
to exceed the self
reaches out into
the collective has
its demise too
body counts / bravery
beauty / wing / flame
though fenced we
throw bricks at the
frosted glass lettering
of the lyric
because it is always
open for business