What if?

Noticed a lot of the poems - some of  mine too - I read these days has activist tones. This goes out to several poets, myself included. I wonder how poetry would thrive if the spikes of suffering, of sadness had been flattened out. How many would write about the magic in an orange moon as it … Continue reading What if?

No room here

The ghost that twists in the basement is a remnant of me. My fears have fed him over the years, giving shape to his collar bone adding flesh to his thighs. Every road that I have yearned to take and refused to venture on has given fodder to this ghost. A few years ago, I … Continue reading No room here