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You can be stout and slow,With eyes that twinkle in friendship.The kind who calls out “Good morning!”And in the midst of a laugh,Makes us remember flowers. You can hum under your breath,Roll a coin back and forth over your knuckles.Make it spin and catch the light. The point isn’t to feel great.The point is to…
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How can we know what is fair? Is he careless or guided? He is true… …He also hums to himself and peers through windows.
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I raised a blade Like a stranger Coming with argument and authority But no gunpowder To back up both He winking and glimmering His doors Stood open to the morning Watching his own performance With mechanical fingers Good morning, my friend, He said. And then, He held his breath. My neighbors held their breath. As…
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God’s against him Roast little baby Don’t you cry He could see dream forms Poison not receding Empty from the laughter inside Graying, aging Old skin and lethargic eyes A thin dog came to him It carried the melody Melody of evil A curious effect on his skin Why is this other poor man So…
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How’s it going? He told the child. I’m going to work, the child replied. The child spoke Almost appearing In a counter melody Do ever steady the boat Looking speculatively Drifting in or complete reality …We catch a breath and moan a little.
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Hadi Atallah 