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Pakistan
On the last day
his jaw dropped.
His face conceded.
But he did not
look dreadful,
merely paused.
Was he on the
verge of
something?
Hastening to Make Waste
In the moonlight
she is vigorous.
Her flesh
attends to
the weight of
her marriage.
The three of us
collide. What
astounding
wreckage.
Drowning in the Icy Waters Offshore
I threw the
arm of Fellows
by her dar.
Made
a loud burst
in it.
Just imagine.
One dandy
motion,
and then,
things.
Ambit
You
just rest
your back
back on
the bed.
She will
drive.
My Phantom
Fact is,
you missed it.
The chance to
be
the very first
one
on your block
to see a real
poet
in action up
close.
The innocent
carpenter and
the sale of
his labor.
Those days of
sweat
now lost.
Constructions
of one too
many.
His
marriage
of
wrinkles.
And
lust. And fast
lunches of
foolish
pleasures.
The sadness
still to come.
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