Ozalid

Poetry. Biswamit's poems arrive and depart simultaneously, or at least give an impression of being both a trail ahead and a trail behind a moving figure. This seems to me to be a cosmic figure, in the spirit of Jesus, because of its gleam and disappearance. What is thrown, like wheat or gold, flies, falls, vanishes but leaves marks. The marks are all we have to judge the figure by. I guess that is called a sleight of hand? This is the way I understand them, in any case, and feel their pain as being a suffusion of which there is no more or less than what is written--Fanny Howe.