Calling on America
The idea of a legitimate home, and in essence belonging to a place while concurrently defining oneself as a member of a diaspora community may
The idea of a legitimate home, and in essence belonging to a place while concurrently defining oneself as a member of a diaspora community may
I want to forget about the heartaches in the world. I want to think of you, just now, just this minute of writing to you,
Remain my burning bush I want to wear you like a pair of earrings so that your touch leaves me short breathed, so that when
Do you read my story, the story of my love, a love so deep that it is needless of your physical presence? Has there ever
The Dawn I am truthful to you, to my pen, to my readers. You can call these pieces part of my autobiography, a fiction, horridly
All too soon Do you think I will lose interest in you? Or you will have enough of me writing our story, enough of my
Everyday You suspect poetry to be non existential. You question my continuation. You arbitrate and exceed. You doubt your own name. Who does that but
Nothing is all I am, Nothing overloading nothing, Closing the doors, Opening an extra into an empty space, Nothing ensues but a further war.
I don't care if you are you and I am I. I am not some exotic flower. Whatever coat you have on, I will put
Tehran I She smiled and spoke softly of Tehran and her family, of her uncle who left to buy bread, never to return home again.
Silence, where the mute ones scream. Darkness, where the dim ones shine. One voice, one color, one banner; one past, one future — under the
A bird’s milk, ghasam-e Hazrat-e Abbas, A bird’s tail and some human lives! These are a few short phrases and nobody gives a second thought
When my palms were still growing to reach the white berries on the carved tree of memories with one heart and two initials… I remembered
I stand where the windows are empty from my reflex and in the growing twilight of the evening I stare into the happy alley and
Since the publication of my article “Ayatollah Ebadi?”, I have received a considerable number of responses. Most of them were encouraging. Some were critical of
We Iranians usually don't listen to each other. When we do we usually hear only what we want to hear. I am not sure if
The gray bird does not sit on the tall dry tree, the red fox is gone, the bulimic night will soon give way to the
Come stand by my window where below we may watch the people move through the helter-skelter of the day to day throng and I find