Four Poems
By Goirick Brahmachari
The smoky roof has given up. It leaks memory drop by drop
On to my sink. The staircase is
Breaking, falling apart. Insects
Have taken over the corridor.
Book Review: Goirick Brahmachari’s ‘For the Love of Pork’
By RK Biswas
The book is divided into two sections – Home and Away. The sections represent the opposites, yet connected, and the poems seem to dip and swing, flow in and out like rivers that refuse to be separated.
Four Poems
By Goirick Brahmachari
I choose to sit by the window of my winds
And let this winter night wash off my sanity.
Naked like truth it dawns onto us.
No cigarettes to warm us up.
No bodies to set us free.
Becoming and Unbecoming
By Goirick Brahmachari
Becoming is a form we try hard to look for.
The absence of becoming is probably unbecoming.
Probably between these shades of becoming and unbecoming lies poetry.
In defense of losers
By Goirick Brahmachari
The heat rises like a desert storm
for the lack of water in my rhyme
dehydrates a traffic jam through my
morning high, expanding time, looping lives.
How I learned photography
By Goirick Brahmachari
A woman in black,
hair wrapped in a hijab
that made us realise that black is as pure
as white.
Flags I want to hoist just for a moment and then burn them all
By Goirick Brahmachari
Pakistani, because Sain Zahoor fucks me up,
Bangladeshi – there, there, my roots lie
Icelandic, for the music is high
American, for the Delta Blues and Jazz and Beats and Dylan and Malcom X …
Poem: Aping ‘Footnote to Howl’
By Goirick Brahmachari
Every fucking word is holy!
Holy marriage, Holy infidelity.
Cafe Dissensus Everyday 