Places

Baghdad, Iraq

Baghdad, Iraq

« There you are returning to her once more. You never knew how many times you left and how many times you said you would never go back to her. »  —Sadek Mohammah, Archaeology of Scorched Cities

In this dark land
We inherited black clothes,
Black thoughts
And black rain.
We witnessed the execution of the palms
And killing of the rivers.
In this olive colored land,
When a...

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The relationship between the word and the bullet is a complicated and tense one, or rather one of rivalry. Both of them compete for sovereignty over man's life. Unlike the other creatures, man has the privilege of...

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Passion is a sundial
the time insists on the move,
while the sun does not persist in brightness.
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Passion is a cool idea of the Palm in the summer
to sleep in a shadow of a garden....

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To my father & also to Mike

You will find
Different leaders for each side there.
But the dates are still unified
Since the early days of the God.

Dates are
The morning key...

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He is busy with his scattered papers.
The muzzle of the old pistol
is looking at him in provocation.
Poetry is the noblest thing in language,
and the whiteness of the papers is death.
They...

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She examines her face in the mirror with slow concern, groping her pock-marked cheeks. Eyebrows furrowed lips trembling, she pronounces the words: I hate you!

She examines her face in the mirror again, her sad...

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Eternity

Surgical ward
Previous generations
Surgery table
Swords
Horses
Minarets…

And here we are
On the same table
-As it has been always-
Naked
With...

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1. Alleys

A gate for the distant place and death.

2.
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With our bloody coats
we will bring down the city where the...

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The fever called "living"! – Edgar Allan Poe

An ancient lightning… a small courtyard… a green spot in a child's memory… summers, hot summers… a ghetto that knows rain and mud… and looks forward to mysterious...

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She let her headscarf slip freely to her shoulders, as if she didn't realize , so that her hair would be free from the headscarf for a while. Then she pulled the edge of her headscarf flirtatiously to hide the right...

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It comes to me

That I may see what is unseen
In the pleasure of speech,
In the night step
And in the crawling of roses on myrtle.

It comes to me
That I may cross the sea of...

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She is the remains
of sails
fought over by cats
from the tattered ends of tribes.
Her bleak mast
dreams of pirates
that will force out her...

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