By Arkava Das
the room ballasted with sunset
sings
not everything troubles you as soon
as you forget it
with a dream
leaving your bed
with a body
a tinnitus
evening with the horizon
“line that fills a plane without ceasing
to be a line”
repeated sense of looking into the distance
and red curtains
moved by birds
Arkava Das lives in Delhi with his wife, Nidhi, and his father. Most of his work owes something to bilingualism — a condition that frequently involves balancing two possible worlds — a Will Alexander with a Joy Goswami, a Vasubandhu with a Guattari. He has some work in Jacket2, Entropy Magazine, Big Bridge, and Blackbox Manifold, and is on the editorial board of the Triggerfish Critical Review. He has recently joined the MA course at JNU, Delhi.
