By Zahraa’ Khaki I can hear you At the edge of my being Fluttering against a closed door A veil That your dying wings Cannot escape Still I breathe you in Muted Against the gossamer strangling you I press against…
Blog Archives
Revive
By Chestlyn Draghoender Dai curse moet gabriek wôd; Die een met sy kloue all over jou lieewe moet gabind wod. Met sakke en al moet hy ytgasmyt wod, lat hy plat op sy gat val. Want mens kannie jaa in…
This is the poem that was not written
By Ehud Ein-Gil November 18 will mark the tenth anniversary of the death of Abraham Serfati (Avraham Tzarfati in Hebrew). Born in Casablanca in 1926, a communist from his youth, imprisoned for his struggle against French rule in Morocco. A…
Marikana Beach
By Xolani Shezzi Baby vulture! Come get chubby! Make sure to call mama and papa vulture, too. We are going to the beach To surf on the blood of the dead. Hurry up! Hurry up! We can’t afford to be…
My Arabic is mute
By Almog Behar Translated by Dimi Reider My Arabic is mute strangled at the throat Cursing itself Without uttering a word Sleeps in the airless shelters of my soul Hiding from relatives Behind the Hebrew blinds And my Hebrew is…
