I have to write it down because if I don’t write it down the thoughts cylindrically go around and around in my head and if there is no where for them to go it turns into insanity. But if I can catch one and force it into this crude tool them I am no longerContinue reading “Escaping Insanity”
Category Archives: Persian
Salem alehcon madreseh sharood shod the white shal was never stifling. familiar dust and the deep smell of roses. little girls all in rows. But how can my Baba see me? How does he know I am his little girl? The one in blue? The one with the rose? Nikes! Nikes! Over Here! Man enjaContinue reading “Madreseh مدرسه”
“On Writing in Iran”
(Continuation of “On Writing”) The callus had formed a long time ago having never had the opportunity to heal. The pressure of every pen and pencil. The physical presence of every written assignment embedded into a small hard mound on my middle finger. In Iran, my teacher believed that the best way to learn aContinue reading ““On Writing in Iran””
March Baba March
March towards the fiery light March towards the book burnings March towards the green pastures of the world March towards the end of the sands March towards the freedom of this land March towards March to wards March toward March to war March towards me Come and find me And I will march with you.
Three Days Short of a LAN’s Tale
It’s been three days now since sounds of war began bombarding the walls of my living room. The thunderous bass triggered by the sounds of grenades detonating. The shouts of the participants rises in panic at the anticipation of a bomb being diffused. The girl sitting on the couch has been witnessing this exact spectacleContinue reading “Three Days Short of a LAN’s Tale”
xoudaya man, koja raftee, pawyeen, ya balla.
(are you there Roald, its me Allia?) no Mr. Teacher not Aliyeh, A-H-L-E-A-H (please dont try to say my last name please dont try to say my last name please dont try to say my last name) i dont funny tahk they’re speech is amuzing i am ameri-can i kome here (snickering, embarrassing, iContinue reading “PRO-NUN-CI-ATION”
Ifrit & Enki
Flame tongue lights fires burning ideas to rampant ash blowing in a flurry and stuffing itself down the vacuous pit swallowing water spouts fuming funneling fantasies two smash like broken glass pieces of perspectives combined catastrophes coalesce in sun bursts
Goodbye: Khoda Hafez
It was about seven o’clock in the morning in the year 1993 when my mother decided to sit me down at the faded yellow picnic table that we used as a dinning room table. I remember sitting there on the hard wood chair and giggling softly as the chair rocked back and forth due toContinue reading “Goodbye: Khoda Hafez”