Places

Qateef, Saudi Arabia

Contributors: Raed Al-Jishi
Qateef, Saudi Arabia

« The Qateef settlement dates back to approximately 3500 B.C. and is well known for its traditional markets (suqs), such as its Fish Market. »

Distances are empty

between us.

Prayers are love,

and when I get drunk

by desire

I forget from which amulet

I wrote myself

using its bloody saffron

and which I...

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My body regularly erupts

and it hurts when it does

but it terrifies me

with its painful time delay.

My legs don’t tremble

my back doesn’t groan,

and I don’t distort my...

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In the theater of time

crucified on my language,

watching the birds

falling onto my song,

stealing pieces of bread

from my melody,

what does its meaning

Prepare for me...

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My kid is playing nearby

and he stuns me,

how he chooses my right breast

and sucks my age

till it swells.

I try to surprise him

with my left

but he squeezes the nipple...

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We have a modest tradition

of hospitality.

Our Arabian coffee

doesn’t need sugar

or cardamom

to be tasty or delightful

just like the smile

we serve

to those...

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I drink

the low-fat morning death.

I begin it by eating dates.

How many times did

the dates immigrate us?

How many times did death strip

the conscience of silence...

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They vanished

like our palm trees.

Ancient open windows

and old dreams.

The city forgot their names

while they held its memory

in their soul

like a candle

...

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If the core of rising

Is the core of kneeling,

where will I direct

and to what will I surrender

my eyes?

From the collection Bleeding Gull: Look Feel Fly

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Their identikits are a mystery.

I couldn’t recognize them

by the reflection

of the wind

Nor by the sensors

On my blind stick.

They walked by me

with sympathy.

...
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I cannot recognize myself

If I don’t wear me.

Faces are deceiving

without their masks,

like that bleeding

white gulf.

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I am a Tuareg child.

My blue turban drowns me

in the waves of sadness,

then expels me

like seeds of ivory.

O! great Tin Hinan,

your brave knight

lost his way among...

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Since the night of shooting stars, the night of travail,

the call to prayer calms me. Some people chant,

“Hale Loya.”

It was the last supper and the birth

of a certain death.

My...

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