thoughts on the window in my room
a sudden burst of rain showers in the city.
We are red raindrops of rye people is pain struggle and sigh while our eyes squint & scan as a minister’s motor crushes bones a man child’s pupils dilate & zones we roll, burn, inhale, keep it in sleep the long sleep outside and within Republic & CM make you DM tit for tat, PandoraContinue reading “Red raindrops of rye.”
She said,feels weird to poemin these times.it took me a while to replytill these words floated in my headpoems are windows to the worldSo i poem-ed for herpoems are ducts of sunlightamidst the dampness of fearpressure valves that force oxygenthrough closed doors & clamped chestsoxy-poems be like oxy-metersprescribe & provide at leisureThey are pockets ofContinue reading “Poems in a pandemic”
a poem about writing and its dilemmas.
When parents become children
What is keeping us here?
Paint. Even as the world burns, paint.
i am living the question now
Elements shape us.