Amit Majmudar's latest poetry collection is What He Did in Solitary. His forthcoming novels include The Map and the Scissors and The Mahabharata Trilogy. Ohio's first Poet Laureate, he is a diagnostic nuclear radiologist in Westerville, Ohio.
Their shadows flickered and stretched to the west.The future fixed its lidless eyeOn concrete switchgrass, furrows of asphalt.Telescopes, searchlights aimed on highShot the flare of the mind at darkness.We stood on the moon but failed to scryThe star called wormwood. The signal changed, but the
“What men truly want is peace,”Says the last one true prophet.Peace feels so like submissionGood prophets can fool most men.For the rest, there’s the hammer,Followed by a gentle tongue To sweet-talk the wounds. A tongueWorks wonders keeping the peace,But wonder-workers keep ha
I never saw the root of the realIn arboreal flare,Nor witnessed this man walk on water,Nor that one float in air. I sat beneath the bodhi tree;I felt my body itch.Between the true cup and the falseI knew not which was which. My eyes have never blown like fusesSparked black upon a wall,No s
There is no poem like a gravestone,that tersely worded, lapidary tercet,the name, the numbers, and the R.I.P.that are the skeleton key to all biography.Some lie embedded, trapdoors in the grass,while others rear their monumentalcornices and angels, like cathedralswhere worms receive the body’s