Home > Author > Sneha Subramanian Kanta
1 " young children standingwith arms open to the world.an endless summer tiptoesfrom their aconite-like feet. "
― Sneha Subramanian Kanta
2 " A crescendo / pushing over the surface / for birth / & utterance / for red / to scatter over fields / like diphthongs / preserved with symphony notes / for earth. "
3 " a combination of all childhood memory / fields of / rice / sugarcane / wheat / barley / cows & buffaloes tilling soil / the red light / of dawn / and tomato plants... "
4 " The world separates. Night coagulates. "
5 " It was November. The trees werefull with smells of oncoming smoke. "
6 " When I was a young girl, my parents often visited a temple from where the Arabian Sea was visible. I accompanied them only to look forward to the few moments where sea mist and a widening orb of space juxtaposed. "
7 " let it be knownthe source and tributary are same "
8 " When dew settles on grass, ghost tracks turn it togossamer rain. "
― Sneha Subramanian Kanta , Ghost Tracks
9 " Our rituals are same. The commonality of a sky—The body is an instrument. A motley of sounds. "
10 " On land you walk withwarm lungs. In the ocean, you are a fishwith gills, accustomed to swim cold waters. "
11 " What I see from this window are houses, in their swarm of linearity. "
12 " The earth is closing itself like a butterfly on us. "
13 " The night is strong in its taxidermy on earth. The parts-dark, parts-bleached. "
14 " Your memory of the dead is like the rain—rain colors itself same as the place it falls on:say, entire cities, streets, & buildings. "
15 " When it rains in Paris, it bleedsinto swift little gutters.You can see your reflectionover its mercury embryo. "
16 " In Paris long enough, I befriendcurled tresses of the cul de sacon the road below my lodging. "
17 " another nameless duskpassing over the Arabian Sealast rowboatsdimly visibleat the sealine hemyou, readingfrom a holy booksyllables as crisp as the oncoming rain. "
18 " I recited segments of Rilke's versesas psalm interludes for a womanwithout a map, welcomed by blurrymornings with fogged windowpanes. "
19 " If you stay long enough in a city, it reverberates inside you as both a celebration and a mourning. "
20 " The path of Dionysian music in scraps of collage, its materiality, its inadvertent touch, its outward gaze. "
