Nostalgic

Ideas of Home

              i

 

Winter has landed; my boot bucks on a stone

surrounded by snow; I swear, I murmur

Oracabessa. “The rock” is what I call home,

all islanders do, and I’m in blessed Ann Arbour,

mainland, where I found safe harbour under

green sea of trees now becalmed, frosted.

Ideas of Oracabessa propel me forward

...

Lorna Goodison

Glass Hands: A Eulogy on the Anniversary of the Pandemic

Hands pressed to glass

 

On the...

El Jones

On My Tongue

Bismillah is my first memory.

 

I became a bird in the Qur’an

at hardly eight years old.

 

I opened the dark green cover

and revealed the slippery

 

two hearts: Arabic

and its English translation.

 

On Saturdays, I learned to repeat

passages in Arabic,

 

to...

Alycia Pirmohamed

Bliss Point or What Can Best Be Achieved by Cheese

A.k.a.

 

        the other gold.

 

                 Now that's the stuff,

 

                         shredded or melted

 

                                   or powdered

 

                                         or canned.

 

                                                    Behold...

Benjamin Garcia

absence. displacement.

absence. displacement.

waiting. then comes rejection.

anger follows. shame makes

the beds

 

the shadows jostle between

the walls of the scarcely visited cities.

time nips at our heels   we are

afraid to arrive last

 

I love the rain when it

wraps me like a

river. grafts me to the...

Etel Adnan
1925-

bhater mondo