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Ancient blog revived from the recesses of the deep- in November; an old month, a cold month, that dips your frozen fingertips in ink and demands from you: write- write, before the frostbite, forever dismembers.. :)
Posts
Showing posts from 2017
A Toccata of Galuppi's (II) 2014
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A Conversation with Cherries On Why They Are Red
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Armistice (A Warm Gray Sound Like the Sea)
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A Blasphemous Bleeding On a Sacrosanct Space
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Ananthya (,I Swallowed Your Heart for Safekeeping)
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Berry Season (My Face Was Once A Canvas)
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Blog Archive
Blog Archive
COPYRIGHT © MADRI KALUGALA, 2020
Out of the ashes I rise with my red hair,
and I eat men like air- Plath.
WHY I WRITE
I write, simply, to dispel the voices in me that demand to be freed. My mind weaves like branches, to and fro, and up- to an opaque sky. Listen and you'll hear those wild leaves, whispering.