Kamand Kojouri

“your memory is hidden 
in every thing that’s not me

even this lonesome cigarette 
and that crooked painting

i hear their laments
and invite them in

who am i to deny
their wretched destiny

we talk of you and sigh
there’s much too sighing 

then i close my eyes to dream
of your tender mercies

i didn’t kiss you enough”

Kamand Kojouri