Nassy Fesharaki Poems

Six lanes

Divided, six-lane road
Three come, three go
...

Alice’s park

As child of museum, on her side
Lay bricks and blocks, on them names
...

A drop can be lost
On window, on a leaf, dead, alive
But few make a line, run to fall
The drops in group can grow to army
...

Métis

You call me what you want
You are dumb, inside wall and blind.
...

Ironic

It is good not to be part of this ‘Ironic’
Iron heart, tongue sweet.
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Desert’s seas

It is noon and eastward on highway eighty five
I drive
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Fresh eggs

On the way, Drayton
On the Road eleven
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Dream-catcher

On roadside the river has stopped
The men of ax and saws
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Lion tattoo

It was not as is now, with machines
Old tattoos were needled, used cold ink,
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Among my photos

Among my photos
There are some that I die to see
...