Poems of İlhan Berk


I have read all things, the open and talkative gardens,
and attested to the incurableness of words,
of the pencil.
One day I saw an insect changing place
as though
it knew something.

And so I pondered the positions of death,
of the cube, the pyramid and the cylinder.

Pendulum – Jayanta Dey


My dad had a clock, a small, round table clock, made of brass. It stood on four curving legs. The pendulum, like a George V silver coin, swung in between. It would invariably catch the eyes that darted in that direction.  How did the medallion swing incessantly forever without fail?

Poems of Patrick Williamson

Light Jar

I bought a jar and filled it
seaglass and light

and started to wonder
these words born from silence

that float in space

Lost Language, Forgotten Culture – Ranjita Chattopadhyay

This morning, the silence felt numbing. Ella wanted to say something to break out of it, but the absence of noise engulfed her. Just like Lake Michigan was covered in the blanket of snow, she was wrapped in the cocoon of silence.

Like Ella, many of us have felt the different effects of silence.

Mother Tongue in a multilingual world - Panel Discussion

The Antonym put together a  diverse panel  to discuss International Mother Language Day. Pina Piccolo and Lance Henson participates from Italy. Lucia Cupertino joins us from Chile. Sumitro Banerjee participates from India. Dipen Bhattacharya participates from California.

The House Of Many Doors - Vidyut Aklujkar

I try to catch them as they are but they are hard to tell apart without their clothes which they change as they pass from room to room in this house of many doors where each room has a two-way door that opens to a special key that locks letters and sounds in just-so strings.