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The Poet is Professor, Department of English, Chittagong University.

A riproaring chanting came to an abrupt halt.
And I sit up mulling over a stark absence
Of an angel headed hipster, his wings clipped off now
Life for whom was a ceaseless carnival time.
Is that why he was jeered as an alien swilling hobo?
But America made him want to be a saint,
Now swept into silence is a minstrel
Of those who get busted in ghostly sordid cities;
A sleepless crusader whose gnashing prophecies
Made the crooked rapacious elite burp;
The startling exit of him, how very like an athlete
Poised in a final fixity!
If his Orphic lips are mute
His bravado in 'Howl' will surge on wave after wave
If his clasping hands are cold
His monument of grief in 'Kaddish' will stand like
Niobe, tears flowing towards the curious,
An Ariel, in Prospero's world,
but do you like his plans for departure?
How could he part from everything
That's so long been nestled in his lovesick fabulous heart?
Zoomed out just as he zoomed in
May be away for a long road life again,
We salute him, our comrade
Who was with us with his thrilling carbine ode
His 'September on Jessore Road'
When our guns were pounding away at the enemy ranks.
How can we let him be gone?
There has to be someone with us with the 'Sunflower Sutra',
with the nostalgic mantric scores.
Tell me anything except
That he won't be back anymore.