Shastra Deo

Saturday Night in the City of the Dead

Last night, after I said I was just passing through. After we stole away from other sapphics. After I said you’re going to die and I can’t stop it. Last night in San Junipero when the sky blushed lilac, horizon …

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Submission to Cordite 111: BABY

Send us your babies. Nobody puts poems in a corner.

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The Hanging On

First day. My father tracking one axis deer. Tomorrow morning a fallow. Come evening I’ll make fire and char the meat for eating. My hands are good at that now. Turning one thing to another. I want to describe how …

Posted in 107: LIMINAL | Tagged


Find a centuries-old oak. To walk there will be slow work. Listen. Kill three wolves. There will always be wolves. Kill the man who wears a wolf pelt on his back. Enter the cave mouth and follow the flooded dirt …

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Love Carefully

Studies have been done on the impulse found within children to wave off morning trains south bound to elsewhere goodbye, you were here for only a moment, and by noon we’ll have forgotten you, goodbye, goodbye I want to know …

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Tell Me Like You Mean It 4

With the glorious task of commissioning writers for a new collection of sincere, heartfelt writing for Tell Me Like You Mean It volume 4, I found it took longer than usual.

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Concerning Divination (2)

For most of my life I’ve been right about omens. Salt, ravens. Red skies at morning. Rocks thrown against the wind. A six pack ring found in the vicinity of a sparrow’s nest suggests three loves before marriage. A robin’s …

Posted in 95: EARTH | Tagged

Review Short: Shastra Deo’s The Agonist

Shastra Deo’s first volume of poetry, The Agonist contains many poems about corporeal life, and about the separation of bodies, problematising the connections between body and thought. The poems often turn the inside out, as it were, opening up a poetic anatomy of internal organs and interior life.

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गुम; or, Lexical Gaps

सपना /sapna/ My dreams, in colour. My skin drips melanin and no one tells me I have a beautiful name. I have no country of origin and I cannot be accused of being articulate. याद /yaad/ My childhood, remembered: mouths …

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