Out of the Gray: A Concerto for Neurons and Synapses is the unusual story of love between a gorgeous neuroscientist and a social scientist who

Dr. Zadeh, who has just received the 2009 Benjamin Franklin Medal in Electrical Engineering, is an old friend and wonderful soul who for years sent

The new Prophet stands lightly On top of Her chosen books Stacked up as high as the moon. They are the books of sciences, The

“O, my shy teardrop,  Do you feel the invisible barbed wires  Tightening around the visible me?  Comfort me.  Come into being.  Tell  being How harsh

From not remembering when To not noticing how My brain is being infected With viruses just like a computer. But a computer has no soul

Eulogy Benazir Bhuto,You the beautiful, courageous, brilliant womanYou, who loved life,And wished to serve with passionYou, Benazir, that your name Means: “The only one.”And were truly

Random thoughts behind the wheelon the way to a turkey dinner  Finally Santa Claus is gone Leaving shopkeepers sad until next year. I hope children will

Daydream in Barns& NobleAfter a double espresso.  The sacred love  I wish I knew Where the sacred space is When the sacred time is WhereWhen the

Fear of truth is linked to shame which is considered the most powerful emoton in human psyche. For instance, the fear that a dominant religion,

Manoucher Parvin’s Alethophobia (IBEX Publishers, 2007) revolves around the life of the Iranian-born Professor Pirooz who lives mostly in his own imagination; he is everywhere

You said, “I’ll come back.” As the train was snarling and hissing At first refusing to budge Then abruptly yanking you away And you waved

My Pomegranate blossom Let me watch you, Let me touch you, Smell you and care for you. .. Pomegranate blossom When you are ready Let

Am I a poet? Struggling to write The poem of poems? Or am I a poem? Struggling to be written? Am I a lighthouse? Rooted

Sunrise after sunrise Leaving my dreams under my pillow I rushed to comb the sleep out of my hair, Hurrying the dawn into the sun

I am lost only if I am a root, Scrounging for food in the dark While croaking the dead word: “Diaspora, Diaspora, Diaspora.” Fearing for