For Maeve Dear Maeve This poem is not about you, it is about another Maeve; this you must understand before we can proceed and it is likely that Maeve herself will not like this so we...

      Vegetable Cart Hot summer afternoon, every closed window in that high rise saying SHUT UP to the hawker, with his vegetable cart Nikhil Nath has been writing poetry for eighteen...

      And as I wait I tremble These plates are floating, though I know They shouldn't be. The buildings lean in, lowering Over the street. Cobbles rush their ancient patterns. Windows...

      Joseph Brodsky’s dog is on a quest Joseph Brodsky’s dog is on a quest. He snuffles past neglected plots and crypts, dog-sniffs every monument, thrusts his nose into a mouldering...

      Call (After Vera Pavlova) Often, the phone in the corner starts crying and I come running to calm it. It’s my mother, again, calling to tell me of the problem with today. She’s...

      Yesterday's news was forgotten by morning as if the world refreshes its memory overnight. But this time the past latches on to the blossom stench along the path by the park...

  Reflection II Reflection in a bowl, slightly quivers. The puzzle pieces have been imperfectly assembled. The faucet drips, no one to hear. The wind has carried off all the leaves like a bride...

      Ingredients First of all, there’s the right word, when it finally arrives, and the blank space, the silence the right word fills, and then there’s the pattern the filled-in...

      Self Portrait With Body Works (after Gunther von Hagens ) Photography is not permitted so I make mental snapshots of everything as I mooch around the exhibits and scribble a...