–While reading Ilya Kaminsky, I Think of Umar Khalid Just outside Qutub Minar there’s a line of buses and cars filled with all kinds of folks, looking for all kinds of things– some have come to lose themselves; some, just want to get home; walking back to the metro, we pass flocks of uneasy dogs. Later, I’m reading Ilya Kaminsky, under a spinning fan– we may not live in a mythical town, but they’ve jailed the best among us.Comments closed
Poems about the dark times.