Every poem lingers like
trapped monsoon rains
smell of pollen and plums burgeoning like the pregnant woman trying
to scurry out of the rains. Images cannot rest at my best when the
poem untraps me and rains whisk away this heavy-headedness.
Every poem lingers like
trapped monsoon rains
smell of pollen and plums burgeoning like the pregnant woman trying
to scurry out of the rains. Images cannot rest at my best when the
poem untraps me and rains whisk away this heavy-headedness.
