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- The Great Excavation
- coming out in no particular order
- This town; a breathing crocodile, is a sad town…
- My grandfather on a sandglass
- what the little girl meant to say when the long-haired journalist asked: where are you from?
- The man who wrote bad poetry
- The dilemma of a poem
- a poem you read from right to left
- The federal constitution
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- coming out in no particular order eunoiareview.wordpress.com/2019/04/18/com… 19 hours ago
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Tag Archives: Daryl Muranaka
Scouring Google Earth, for a village long ago swallowed by the city, I find a gray and lifeless compound menacingly silent to the camera. How what appears to be an industrial slum can be as impenetrable as time. How we … Continue reading
The view from the road goes by in a flash even as the view of the town inches by. The miles blur like a photo mishmash. The years tick-tock as they multiply. Above the shabby farm town, forgotten and lonely, … Continue reading
At the border between Mass & NY there are billboards reminding us there is injustice in the world that turns people into vagabonds & wretches for the curve of their faces, the mishmash of their shades, that blind justice is … Continue reading
Is it bad that I forgot what my own face looked like when someone muttered to me, Why don’t you go back to the Orient where you came from! on my way to work? Here, too, we find the bitter. … Continue reading
Each day, passing the samosa and the roses, the steady routine of returning home sanding away the meaning of life to the essentials of comfort, of her hand on my back, forehead to forehead, a smile or a frown being … Continue reading
He wonders how his life would have changed if he had slept with that woman who excused herself to use the restroom, her eyes so full with hope and anticipation, but when she returned, choked with disappointment because he had … Continue reading