
The garden path and all that jazz by Anisha SenGupta Yanger
The garden path and all that jazz Anisha SenGupta Yanger Often enough,the ziplock splitsthe bones crash,and I can feel the days presence all too well,the particles of my cerebellum,caught unawaresjust like the watchtowerits not able to keep trackof the salubriousneeds and has put togethera search of sorts, futile in time,a calibrated onset of old and new, a used photo, a preset to an onset, a zapa heart lurch,a momentary confusion,another parable, exiting the marrowso entrenched in the dailies but flying high, the linesbeen drawn,3 times over at least andon the invisible one, the tropics…
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