There is no suitcase, no cabin baggage to pack.
No air ticket, no hotel booking to be locked in.
There is no fear of red-eye. When my poems
globe-trot, a part of my longstanding love affair
with myself travels with them. They carry my
flavors, my failures.
Self-Portrayal
Perks of prosody: hurtful memes
are hidden in images and innov-
ative wordplay. It’s no longer
embonpoint or porcine. In my
head I’m not fit to be seen: this
fusillade of feelings continue
to swell as I do nothing except
the occasional mop up.
Modern Poets Magazine 