India, Dec. 13 -- As are we, ready to grow in lieu, wherever the grafts we brew. I remember the transplants I knew, the rooted uprooted, the damned-if-we-do, the sailor exiled to shore.

I return the name of the stormto the Eunice remembered in this song: Eunice de Souza, poet, lover, curmudgeon, who rendered history to snapshot, theology to form,in one or two stanzas, a dozen lines, no more.

and invented a voice so sharp, sardonic and wrythree generations of poets took up her cry. But it was love she extracted from fury.Bombay's almond leaf, impossible to bury, listing, landlocked, sailor.

- From The City under the City: Poems

Over a period of two years, John Kinsella and Jeet Thayil wrote call-and-response poems from whichever part o...