My Indian In-laws (Belinda Subraman Poems)
I remember India: palm trees, monkey families, fresh lime juice in the streets, the sensual inundation of sights and smells ...
I remember India: palm trees, monkey families, fresh lime juice in the streets, the sensual inundation of sights and smells ...
My patient, Paul, wrote in a poem that he belongs to the wayward wind, a restless breed, a strange and ...
At the edge of winter in crisp early March a dull thud of numbness delays joy and sadness that will ...
Silence has no zen today. Ambient freeway noise from ? mile away, the occasional Friday nighter coming home 2:00 a.m. ...
As we slide into the 3rd world we have created, running from hurricanes, with our SS# indelibly inked on our ...
Eyes like stars sparkle and die and cycle into new stars, new eyes. The answer is outside our window. Astronomers ...
I dreamed I was eating a book. It was made from 8" by 12" slabs one inch deep. It tasted ...
past the hippies past Ravi Shankar eons before when the first Asian snake came alive stiffened with sound through some ...
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