Nassy Fesharaki Poems

Pride

Can-man was, little late
Passes by; he walks tall
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Nostalgia

As it was then
Chalks removed
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He wrote a poem
He wrote of feeling holes in tongue
Poetic ambiguity
“Your word’s a bullet in my tongue.”
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For whom did the Bells Toll?


How familiar it sounds
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Beautiful nymph

Comb in hand and scissors gets a bend.
Cold and dark, roadside lines of power
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Let's have fun

On the sands of beach lay the seashells
Soft fingers back and forth; make castles
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Peg-leg Frida

Frida don't sleep; Sun's landed on my lap; mountains soared to sky, dry's my mouth
Unpaved Riverbed, gravel road for mammoth, it is bird; dinosaur is a king; is strange
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Sad;
The farm is
Run over by water
Sad;
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Humid and hot is this day of the July
Scattered and few are sitting as we do
Every day in this hall, except for those three,
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He is dead; let's forget what happened
Let's stick to why, how
Let us dig in ourselves
Let us see what is wrong
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