Glissade

And when Father was furious, the entire house suffered. He banged and shouted.

Little Inhabitants The poet wakes in the middle of the night to find that his room, Barely enough for his lean body, is a megacity for the little Inhabitants. Roaches are going and coming, each one with A different sense of urgency, some slow as clumps of dew, Others civil servants in love with the …

Now every alphabet of your mis-branding is peeled  away by the salt of time

“May God answer our prayers. ”I ask what she is here for.“ I want my son to get a visa to go to London. He has been rejected ten times now.”

ISSUES

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