Photo by ibrar.kunri / Shutterstock.com “lord, i worry / that love is violence.” —Jose Olivarez Love shows itself again while I’m in traffic. Words like خم & زلف& سنبلare not only beautiful again,but near. I can actually...
Photo by Alexanderphoto7 / Shutterstock.com quantum of pepper in a Bloody Mary so perfectequates tipsy to happyrolling down my throatin jeeps of pinwheel candyseducing stomachyou Sir be a fine mess belly blushing a baby’s pinkmy frame a door to seaweed pleasure to...
Photo by lit3rd / Shutterstock.com If I were an alcoholic in Japan, I would be very good at hiding it. The way I would be very good at hiding everything: my panic attacks, my tattoos, my scars. No one would ever see me cry. Let’s get some vodka, I’d say to my Japanese...
Wrapped in the fabric of my pink dupatta, Begum Bazaar is the fabled navel in the eye of antiquity. The streets stomach quaintness mutely, like measured gulps of Irani chai. We walk on, moving in a soft-haze of sounds and colors. You propose a game of make-believe. We...
Photo: “The Green Line in Nicosia (Cyprus)” by Marco Fieber is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 I would like to tell you about the kafenion, about the cat that lived there, and the cheese rinds I fed it. About the coffee-shop owner who was hit by a car, and the...
We catch our breath near the beheaded buddha at the temple’s summit. Beyond us, the crater of Mt. Merapi breaks through a ring of clouds, while among the bell-shaped stupas, the gap-toothed man snaps photos of a young couple. Sunlight rises over the central stupa’s...
