Nassy Fesharaki Poems

In the car on the road, straight, side to side, turn around
And four lanes look at cars, their drive
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I want a pail between her legs.
I want my hands caress breast.

I want nipple held soft, finger
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Invisible artist


Brush in hand
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Philip Gray
Road to Afghanistan
The Remembrance Day
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CBC

“Best food too has bad taste if always, ”
I was told down the lane of the years.
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I happened to know him more through what he sold.
The woodwork that ended in our shop was table or counter, closet and maybe front desk.
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Echo waved hitting the mountainsides, all rocky and brown
Then came back, free bird of sky curve-flew like a bat in dark cave
How smart flying with no eye
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The history of salt, though not recorded, is rich
For millenniums, the salt has been an exchange
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“It’s heavy…too heavy…heavy, ”
He moaned, pleaded and begged:
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Rise to Fall
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