the muse apprentice guild
--expanding the canon into the 21st century




SIX WORKS
BY PRASENJIT MAITI

January 2003

I seek the silences of your thighs, Calcutta, my expanse and my dwindling fury, as I spit on my grave and look back over my shoulders like my hunchbacked worries . . . I steal your lines and lose my job and kill our children and come sooner than your desire . . . The morning tram droops an early, hopeless return while the winter wraps around our windshield in and out the vanishing green . . . I walk back home in the company of mists and memories of battles and happen to wag my tail and my tongue when I run into my god . . .

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OCEAN! OCEAN!!

You light up a cigarette as Iím swept ashore and walk holding hands with my envy toward the celestial gates of the Bay of Bengal . . . My tongue twitches in fury like the bitch of a winter all around as the sand and the salt and the tears of the ocean rise like litany in unison . . . You run into me somewhere near the waterfront where the beach lies cobble-stoned and panting in season . . . Your eyes move from green to grey to blue as the waves like mermaids heave their breasts in climax . . . Our eyes water as your cigarette smoke is blue against the blue ocean when my envy and I walk in silent camaraderie toward no tomorrows

It was an afternoon
when she walked out of our lives

leaving me to savor our dinner

cold and alone

like a heartless collation

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SADNESS

angst and afternoon

i savor our dinner

collation turns cold

stutter and sorrows

 pastels like evening

 eyes are closed

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ALLOW ME TEACH YOU
AN OLD TRICK OR TWO

You take your woman

in your arms like eggshells

and you tell her

what sex is all about

She may not be aroused

then you are to fall back

on your memories

and do nothing else

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WHAT ABOUT A WOMAN
WITHOUT TRAPPINGS?

What about walking along roads

that are no more?

What about my women

whom I do not meet anymore?

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LET US GO AWAY

from all our women tonight
women are like wastelands
let us caress the fields of joy
where the haystacks groan
and the memories of our

lovemaking are rife with agony