Ethnic Alzheimer

The rug

and the fog and the milk and the wind and the troll

I still remember all

Woven from beginning of history

Stretched up until our old “Naharkhori”

The pattern of that old Turkmen rug

and the crawl of early morning fog

amidst Ramsar’s forests

and the vagrant Shahsavaar cows

with milk-loaded breasts

Tell me, what fills the void of this life best?

I still remember

The wild whirlwinds running in vain

between the road of Kashan – Naein

originating  from

40 dried “ghanaat” and “kariz”

…or who knows perhaps

from blossoms of Shomal  narenj trees;

or the nest of wild bees

I still remember

bloomy scent of spring, but

gloomy tone of bullying in falls

stay away from school trolls

stick to the Shirkakao only 8 rials

…..

Now, I open up to change everyday

and to my ethnic Alzheimer

From Atlantics to San
Francisco bay

 

Hey!

 

Dishab 

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