Every Refugee is a Poem
(1) كلُّ لاجئٍ قصيدةٌ. (2) أنا القصيدةُ: كان كاتبي على عجلٍ، فلم يضع ليَ عنواناً. تركني على مكتبِه ثم غادرَ. ... Read more
In Search of Identity
البحث عن هوية لا وطن لي أُنتزعت منّي الهوّية وهمت في رحاب الأرض بلا مرجعيّة فهلاّ آويتني؟ هلاّ كنت لي أرضاً أز... Read more
Two Movements
I From the terrace before six I see a train crossing, Three cars long—“That’s it?” Passing in no time at all. I linger for the evening commuter; longer, heavier, humi... Read more
Three Poems
Untitledmy mother is a pile of dust between two bricks unable to be condensed to a finer powder she sleeps in her ashtray next to the cigarettes that numb her I walk through the door just make a good ... Read more
Quezon City, October 1, 1975
Everyone is watching two men bleed in the square. i. They’re leaning on each other, heads on the other’s shoulders. The referee pushes them apart and the mouthpieces fly into the air. Granddad, th... Read more
The Screen is a Portal
Especially while in self-isolation, screens—whether windows or devices —have become a portal for connecting us with the world beyond our domestic walls. The screen that we choose determines how we... Read more