A certain way (and other two poems) As an immigrant,I am expected to behave in a waya certain way. Colour the walls with turmeric,fill my soul with lamentfor the land whose shores I have leftto become richer economicallypoorer emotionally.Fold oil into long black...
SCREAM THROUGH NATURE No orange skiesNo blood-red cloudsNo sun screaming through haystacks I wake I wakeI ask whyI work I workI ask whyI walk I walkI ask why for this scream through nature, in my head, in my bones, in my blood, caving in, exploding out, within the...
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