You thought you had escaped, didn't you? / Outran everything that weighed you down
A quiet, seniority in its touch, / A tenderness that feels like it's meant to last
Sometimes at early dawn / You overpower my eyelids / And won’t let me wake up
Who do I tell, sir? The walls do not listen, The roads do not answer back
When moon fades into dawn and when I pass away with it / Will you think of all that I was?
1 and 3/4 cups of sugar, 2 cups of i-love-you
It is enough— Enough to be here, Beneath the bulb of a wonton shop.
I know of my feeble frame of its graying at the edges.
migratory animal Are you looking for a home?
I heard they are changing the dictionary.
When the streetlights flicker, think of every doe-eyed child that the city swallows
A walkway through the crystal-clear lies
Irrespective of the ambivalence that marks Metaphysical poetry of the 17th century, Selim marvels us with his choice of words and precision of utterance.
But talks of harmony flood your nose. / Harmony, harmony, harmony—you want it so bad, / and so you put words in our mouths
the bullet hole/ in my brother's chest/ unfolds like a pandora's box
My father speaks in a dismantled language that goes up in smoke.
justice—where is justice?
Where voices unite, a chorus strong, / Demanding justice, righting wrong
‘You must bury / yourself / Every three days’ / She said, / ‘Corpses are of / No use
