The imagery in these poems invokes the sweaty claustrophobia of far-off places. Although the tone is distinctly foreign, they capture a hopeful despair that is eminently universal.
The Anurag Minus Verma’s style is observational. You’re put in his shoes, see the world through his jaded eyes, and it’s very effective. He sees into the hearts of those around him but doesn’t cast judgement. It’s just the way life is, he seems to suggest. (And I’m inclined to agree.)
Love in the Time of Pokémon should be a hit with fed-up Millennial types.
