The palm of my feet gliding through the pedestal on a yellow bus at 6. The fibers of jacket,...
A soul, in collars, Walking untrailed trails, Catching eyes on the lane, To map her way to the train,...
Blend of tasteful dusts on a yellow mug, Sometime in February or March, At an air-conditioned lobby, Under one crest we share glares, and...
Delivering Poems Around The World
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