A poem — I hold it close to me, this feeling of mine, it stays inside, under lock and key, I hold my feeling close it’s trying to leave I just shut the door, it’s avoiding me, then I just let go, let the feeling flow, I save what I’ve seen, in my memories…

Haiku 157 out of 1000 — Infinite water, from a bottomless, stone well, the internet, still Read another.

A short poem about language relief — I take off my English and put it on the coat rack. It sits there, ready for my next trip. I walk to my closet With light steps Unencumbered I pull a cozy nightdress A second, third, fourth language Not fully feathered but comfortable I settle in, my feet up…

Haiku 156 out of 1000 — deep underwater its bioluminescence electrifying

Haiku 155 out of 1000 — simple paper folds chiseling structure from planes a wood pulp sculpture

A poem about her day — Heavy-handed complaints She laid them on me I knew better than to try and put out the fire Some fires need to burn And tucker out on their own I like her warmth By Eashan Reddy Kotha

Haiku 154 out of 1000 — the condenser mic waits to be fed vocal sounds, stands at attention Workshopping more haikus. For this one, deliberately breaks the form by having the second and third lines appear like continuations of the first line.

A micropoem — A little bit of ink unravels over pearly smooth paper, settling in the fine grains Directed by a flowing hand a rotating shoulder it proceeds unperturbed Written by Eashan Kotha. If you enjoyed it, please consider reading erode or Bright.