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Podcast: 2016 Fund Drive Poetry, by Shweta Narayan, Ada Hoffman, Margaret Wack, and Karin Lowachee, read by Ciro Faienza and Romie Stott (10/10/16)
Poetry.
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Ciro Faienza presents poetry from the 2016 Fund Drive bonus content.
Passing Fair, by Shweta Narayan (9/12/16)
Poetry.
Late at night / we'll wonder if our wish was worth the aches
Podcast: August Poetry, by Kayla Bashe, Brandon O'Brien, Karen Weyant, and Shweta Narayan, read by Ciro Faienza, Romie Stott, and Shweta Narayan (8/29/16)
Poetry.
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Ciro Faienza presents poetry from the August issues.
To my Shyaam, by Shweta Narayan (8/22/16)
Poetry.
Dancing child, poison-turner, lifter / of mountaintops, not even Kaliya / could carry your weight.
Nettle-stung, by Shweta Narayan (10/5/15)
Poetry.
My mother lost her mother's words, / my nettle-stung tongue lost hers.
Podcast: Fund Drive Poetry, by Jane Yolen, Julia Liberman, Sasha Kim, Carlos Hernandez, and Rose Lemberg, read by Ciro Faienza, Julia Liberman, A.J. Odasso, Carlos Hernandez, Rose Lemberg, and Shweta Narayan (10/5/15)
Poetry.
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents poetry from the issues.
Podcast: October Poetry, by Shweta Narayan, Marchell Dyon, Margarita Tenser, April Grant, and Richard Prins, read by Shweta Narayan, Julia Rios, Ciro Faienza, April Grant, and Richard Prins (10/28/13)
Poetry.
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents poetry from the October issues of Strange Horizons.
Writing Speaking Dreaming: Conversations Around Tatakai, by Shweta Narayan and Strange Horizons (9/30/13)
Article.
"My Tamil is a colonial language, just as Hindi is, just as English is. Where I am in the power balance depends on which power balance we're talking about."
Tatakai, by Shweta Narayan (9/30/13)
Poetry.
mantras couldn't (sri rama rama rameti) shape me to match / the movies
Yajñāḥ / Offering, by Shweta Narayan (3/12/12)
Poetry.
the only me / I still I had, did Agni dance it to ashes?
Homebound, by Shweta Narayan (7/4/11)
Poetry.
She comes into my kitchen for a slice / of black bread, buttered. I've grown so tired, / she says, of cake.
Tonight I Know, by Shweta Narayan (4/25/11)
Poetry.
You, / star-garlanded; clouds / your laughing breath.
Charms, by Shweta Narayan (8/24/09)
Fiction.
It's too easy, the tide of war washing these feckless, smiling girls up, drowning Edith in the bile and brine of the past. And she's hardly old, not yet. Not yet. She shakes her head tiredly. Women's magic, she says, is like everything else. Not good enough for girls these days.
Nira and I, by Shweta Narayan (3/16/09)
Fiction.
Nira and I are six when her eldest brother loses his way in the mist. Three days later his bones get home. An extra finger sprouts from the left hand, and the skull has no eye sockets. But his clothes dangle from the shoulder blades, and dry knuckles scratch at the door for two days before the King's men come.