Cover Your Eyes

It wasn't for the lack of trying.
It was for the stillness in the night
when you called me your life.

But now, he sits there, oblivious,
my life,
and I wonder at your persistence,
as I wondered at the concept of evil—
some things even God falls for.

It is in this insistence of the everyday
that I most indulge your absence,
I let it fill me, like a rag soaks kerosene
right before it catches fire.

I still chew the ragged edges of my fingernails
hoping that in the dead skin
I can taste your insides again.

I have confiscated our words,
set them to oblivion,
that generations to come
would fall in their sweet trap.

I invented love in you.
I ignited you like an Indian widow,
bright flame dancing on supple skin.
And only when your float,
far adrift down the river,
burst the spleen of the night in color,
did I hear the wailing.
And it wasn’t yours;
one can hardly recognize
their voice in tatters.

Still scour those edges,
the banks I’ll never be.
I have tried to bury your eyes in the mud.
But they look up, beyond me,
as evil and docile as the day I buried them,
luring others with their stare.

Yes, I have learnt to forgive
ever since I saw my smile in the waters,
innocent and twisted,
and still covering your eyes.

Monstering

“Daddy, help me!”
“They made her stir a burning pot of shit until she passed out.”
“They tied his arms behind his back and hung him from them.”
“You could hear the screams all the way down the hall, she said.”
“They even had the human pyramid as a screensaver in the detention office.”

“And now to Mary Cantell with Shadow Traffic.
Mary, how’re the roads looking out there?”
“Ah, John, it’s a real nightmare on 76…”

Love Eviscerated

When I killed you, I didn’t cry.

I just looked down, at your head
listless, your hair wiry, your eyes
glazed.
_____I just looked down
with a semblance of pity, or
perhaps regret.
_____It wasn’t everyday
that I got to love this much.

When I killed you, a lop-sided smirk
dawned on my face, a smile
that was almost tender.

I didn’t look back
to see if you’re done.
I just assumed the best,
which never happens.

And now I find you’re very well
and alive.
There are worse things in life,
I imagine.
But the nightmare never ends,
out of boredom.

You'll get it in the mail
someday,
and it will be old and stale
and delicately fragrant,
and mildly haunting.
Like a piece of the cross,
arcane, and blood-soaked,
and generally irrelevant.

Such is our story,
mostly myth.

Does Poety Matter?

http://www.madpoetssociety.com/blog/2007/05/17/who-cares

Pointless

Sometimes, just like that,
they land--
no purpose, no excuses,
not even a clearing of the throat.
They just settle, and insist on being written.
No point--except the blankness of the night.
No value--except the nagging of the void.
Nothing.

And they lodge--
like her words, like that word,
like stuffed animals in tree branches.

Everybody is Pocahontas but me--
I clean chimneys,
I wait on the corner, expecting the rain.

Like that, just like that,
just like the words you never said because he's too young.
Meaningless, yet insistent.

Poetry Corner @ Fairmount Arts Crawl

This Sunday, April 29 2007, I will be reading with a group of friends and fellow poets at the Poetry Corner, as part of the Fairmount Arts Crawl, a day of art and festivities in the Fairmount district. I hope you can join us for a fun-filled day of events!

Fairmount Arts Crawl: Poetry Corner
Ward Park, corner of 24th & Aspen Streets
(Rain Venue: London Grill Coffee Shop / 23rd & Fairmount)
Sunday, April 29 2007, from 2:00pm to 5:30pm
www.fairmountartscrawl.org

2:00 - Nancy Parks
2:30 - Ashraf Osman
3:00 - Michele Belluomini
3:30 - Dan Maguire
4:00 - Arlene Bernstein – www.friendsofpoetry.com
4:30 - Joe Fanning (musician)
5:00 - Dr. Niama Williams – www.niamalesliewilliams.citymax.com

Program:

1. Tell Me
2. Bohemian Dreams
3. Leaves
4. Anymore
5. Red Light District
6. In the Making
7. Jellyfish
8. Lazy
9. Perduto
10. Galileo
11. Revelations
12. Stardust
13. You Lie
14. Splintered
15. Looking In
16. Silences
17. What If
18. Well Done

And the Thinking Blogger Award goes to...

A couple of weeks ago, Tamie named me as one of the 5 lucky recipients of her Thinking Blogger Award. I felt especially honored by the fact that I was the only blogger on the list she didn't personally know. Thank you, again, Tamie!

So, it took me a while (by the time I came back to the luxury of my DSL connection in the US) to comply with the rules for the awarded, which are as follows:

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote.

And now, it is my pleasure to pick the 5 blogs to give the Thinking Blogger Award to:

• something katy
  I do have to start with Katy, certainly one of the best things to happen to me in the blogging world. Katy and I met through blogging, less than 2 years ago, strangers mutually admiring each others' work (though it certainly feels now like we've know each other for an eternity). We were so thrilled by our correspondence, musings about poetry and frequent digressions on life, that we decided to start a blog for it. And then, as we became better friends, it seemed we both started writing less. But every now and then I still do find on her blog(s) that post that reminds me why I was so enamored in the first place, and why I still am one of Katy's biggest fans!
  
  
• mysterious eve
  For all those who don't read Arabic, I am sorry--that you are missing on Eve's writing. She does have an English-language blog, but it is different in content and spirit from the Arabic one. And though there has been a few translations of some posts here and there, it still is a privilege and a pleasure to read Eve in Arabic. Very few people writing in Arabic these days compare--even the wit of the lighter posts is a pleasure! And though she, too, seems to have been struck by scarcity recently, her blog remains a trove of gorgeous insightful writing.
  
  
• Passing for Normal...
  The jack of all trades, Mirvat seems to write in every format and subject matter, all impressively well. From poetry to fiction and non-fiction, from incisive (and very well-informed) political commentary to insightful introspective musings and colorful narratives, Mirvat's blog is always a delight, if not a thoughtful challenge. And be sure to have her on your side when it comes to heated debates... Phew!
  
  
• Silliman's Blog
  Even though I highly doubt that Silliman would participate in this meme, this list of Thinking Bloggers couldn't possibly be complete without him. His blog remains by far the gold standard of blogging poetics, and often broader cultural issues. From his invaluable posts of links (perhaps the most efficient way to catch up on brainy reads around the web), to his expansive (and always impressively informed) reviews of books and events, I know of no other blog that even comes close in dedication and consistency of quality. And there is perhaps no better indicator of that than his loyal and passionate readership, as evidenced in the never-ending commentary section.
  
  
• urban_memories [the unfinished polaroids]
  No, I am not biased by the fact that our blogs share the same template, or that we share the same nationality and profession; but I must be at least a bit biased towards the sensibilities that are the cause/result of these commonalities: from the hyper-punctuation of his handle and blog title (that is as architectural as they come, in the contemporary sense of architecture that seems to concern itself with anything but building), to the fixation on memory and ephemerality. Still, _z.'s (see?) posts remain lucid and grounded, always enjoyable and on-the-pulse. But perhaps what I am most biased towards are his excellent comments, which are often more articulate and insightful than the posts he's commenting on.
  

While I'm Gone

I'll be going to Lebanon soon for a couple of weeks, my first time since the war... I'm certainly looking forward to seeing my family again, but bracing myself for the worst, in terms of witnessing the destruction--or just the cleared lots and non-existent bridges. I don't think I'll be online much while there (not like I've been posting that often of late!). But while I'm gone, I invite you to visit the newly launched Mad Poets Blog. And I hope to come back refreshed and inspired, with some fresh words up my sleeve.
Take care,
Ashraf

Queering Language - The Philly Launch Event

This coming Saturday I will be reading at the Philadelphia Launch Event for EOAGH: A Journal of the Arts, Issue 3: "Queering Language" in which I was featured. This online publication is free and includes the work of over 100 contributors as well as editors' statements on this project:
http://chax.org/eoagh/issue3/issuethree.html

Saturday, March 24th, 6pm to 8pm
ROBIN'S BOOKSTORE
108 S. 13th St. Philadelphia

I hope you can make it!

For more information:
http://www.robinsbookstore.com/events/032407.html

Islamica

The Flight of the Swallow is now featured in the current issue of Islamica magazine, along with In Two Weeks, Ten years, and Seasons.

Many thanks to Daniel Abdal-Hayy Moore for making that possible.

Fear

This is an old poem I wrote on a challenge for the (now-defunct) erotic poetry blog, Wet Poems. I never posted it here before, nor did I claim authorship for it on that blog. I guess I was always--appropriately enough for the title--somehow afraid to. Today I was looking for it on that blog only to realize that the entire blog is no longer. I also found out that there is an audio file on the web of the one time I read it in public (the web is good like that):http://www.writing.upenn.edu/pennsound/x/Queering-Language.html
So I though I might as well give it a home here...

Some days I try to catch up with my fantasies
and sleep with people I don't know.
Not sleep, really; we'd both be standing,
more hurried than a dream,
and we'd smell, too.
But for a few minutes
we'd get a glimpse of the lives we don't live,
lips we could have gotten used to tasting,
skin new to our own.

Turns out it felt so good
because there was blood in my semen.
It burned the next morning,
like fear--sparkling, brilliant and red.

Because we invite fear,
pressing groins against cold slab,
reaching for where it is shaved,
and very real,
knees on terrazzo,
gagging for the first time.

"Where?" he said,
"Here," I pointed with my face.

It smelled different,
another scent of bleach.
My skin absorbed in the dark--
taught, tingling, tender.

I carried the void within me,
clenching it like a preemie,
just another form of love.
Sometimes fear is when it happens.

"Queering Language" Poetry Anthology

. . . is out, and I'm in it! The kick-off event will be in New York at the Bowery Poetry Club this Saturday, and I will most probably be there. Here are the details:

Saturday, February 10th, 2007
8pm-10pm
@ The Bowery Poetry Club
308 Bowery (@ Bowery & Bleecker)
www.bowerypoetry.com
Admission $5.00 plus 2 drink minimum

There will also be an event for the anthology here in Philadelphia, more on that later.

This online publication includes the work of over 100 contributors as well as editors' statements on this project.

Oh, l'amour!

Come join The Great Valentine Debate of 2007, Love: Bane or Boon?

Friday, February 2 2007
5:00pm - 8:00pm

At Milk Boy Coffee,
Lancaster & Cricket Avenues,
Ardmore, PA
610-645-5269

Arlene Bernstein, Mike Cohen, Steve Delia, and myself… plus Annabella Wood, Ray Duffy, & Joe Fanning providing the music!

Sponsored by Ardmore First Friday.