Two Poems by Marc Nasdor

from Insurgentes   Booed-ism   Ordered mind answers itself: ick! spittle! from booths in a café littered with expats about to be blown to detritus. Where were you, far from that? There’s elephant offal for sale over there; here only thoughts of “confiscatory” taxes grinding the minds of bloated emoticons, rubber latrines sunk deep into Disco Nap. Symmetry wobbles & persons aforementioned freak them- selves … Continue reading Two Poems by Marc Nasdor