Nassy Fesharaki Poems

I doubt

I read of one woman
she was found in Tehran.
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Revolution

Days go by
Requests increase and come by
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My ears

My ears, these spies
do their work and have fun
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A candle in the heart

From them, Creoles
I receive the emails
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Burning heart

My art is on the wall; is like me
we, comet and stars, fire-worm
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Improper


Once on way out and in
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Art in nudity

Be careful what you read
digest it and take in
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That mosque

You read and, I read and, do others
a poem, a report, a message
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Damn Radios

I wish that radio was never invented
a damn box that mother said it was:
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I in soup

I feel like…
can't say what…
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