Manisha Chummun I wish I could begin a painting of her. I grabbed a paint brush. Too bad, I'm just a poet with clumsy hands. I figured out her paradox, The girl who can suffuse La Dolce Vita, Bringing colors and sweet scents to a nondescript workplace, also has the blatant appeal of a Chiaroscuro art composition. Here I am, sitting [...]
Category: Poetry
Musings over Metamorphosis
Yuan Changming Sure, I would paint my skin Into a colorless color, & I would dye my hair Wear two blue contacts, & I would even Go for plastic surgery, but if I really do I assure you, I will not remove my native village Accent while speaking this foreign tongue (I began To imitate [...]
Rockpools
You are green tea and gentle hands in the morning.
My Mother Calls Me Circe: A Dream Vision
the archeologist demands a beginning ––
The Wolves and The Woodcutter
He found her in the wood, he said
On Deliverance
and then the confession.
Two Poems
Punctuating Space; and China Lake
Ayesha
Girls, girls, girls
Sandcastle Veins
foot propped on the table, I wrote
An Ode
When I say your name, people refuse
