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Poems

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  • Bad Harvest

    Does my name take your tongue’s

  • Snowfall, with Reconciliation

    How old winter is. However much we stain

  • Toussaint

    The soul, you said, is this sour wind, or this empty glass, the tiny steps of insects, these white iron

  • The Transit Hall on Pier 86

    They say there’s a place in the brain for faces

  • Mr. Palomar’s Wave

    A long time ago, I went with my aunt to hear

  • David

    we wait in an arc with flashlights

  • Three Poems

    “Today we shall begin discussing Longinus’ treatise On the Sublime.”

  • Exclusive Beautiful Grapheme War

    history means touch, bodies

  • Father and Analysand

    Shy in houndstooth, white hair and a smoke

  • Two Poems

    I could never say anything about my father

  • Errand

    The fawn was

  • Momin Khan Momin | Mirza Ghalib

    Momin Khan Momin