“I've been corresponding with Ahmed Abu Khaled for several months, and have watched his situation go from bad to worse. He and his family (including four children) have had to evacuate multiple times, narrowly evading death at every turn. Currently, they're in a shelter where they have to pay rent in order to stay there.” — Adam Whittier
https://chuffed.org/project/help-the-abu-khaled-family-survive-in-gaza
IV.
He was crying, so I took his hand to steady him and to wipe away his tears.
I told him as sorrow choked me: I promise you that justice
will prevail in the end, and that peace will come soon.
I was lying to him, of course. I know that justice won’t prevail
and peace won’t come soon, but I had to stop his tears.
I had this false notion that says, if we can, by some sleight of hand, stop
the river of tears, everything would proceed in a reasonable manner.
Then, things would be accepted as they are. Cruelty and justice would graze
together in the field, god would be satan’s brother, and the victim would be
his killer’s beloved.
But there is no way to stop the tears. They constantly pour out like a flood
and ruin the lying ceremony of peace.
And for this, for tears’ bitter obstinance, let the eye be consecrated as the truest saint
on the face of the earth.
It is not poetry’s job to wipe away tears.
Poetry should dig a trench where they can overflow and drown the universe.
— Zakaria Mohammed
August 16, 2022 from A Date for the Crow
Translated by Lena Tuffaha
Read more at https://thebaffler.com/logical-revolts/poems-from-palestine
I Am a Black Rapper
I am a Black rapper who uses my articulate inner nature
to uplift the intellectual emotions of beings.
I am a Black rapper who progresses in an optimistic,
ambitious, and assertive demeanor.
I am a Black rapper who elevates creativity to another level, using my words to explore high waves and high vibrations.
Creating a space for others to escape to other dimensions
and universes with my microphone and earpiece.
Examining and estimating the crowd’s level of engagement.
Purging, leaking, and dripping out expressions
of high spirited vibrant moods.
Tapping into, piercing into, and unleashing bright energy.
Bringing excitement and joy to the atmosphere.
The music squeezes and squashes
into the flesh of individuals.
Skyrocketing, circling, and shifting amongst their insight.
Giving the surface a steady shake
when the crowd begins to pound their feet against the floor.
Giving their arms a reach and a figure
for them to point their fingers towards.
Giving the crowd a mumble and a portion of humming
they could repeat.
As the bass in their voices begin to intensify and heighten.
Ultimately leaving the crowd with enhanced energy.
— Anyla McDonald
oops! all stars
in dreams of silent coyotes this moment was foretold
as usual, lacking depth
had never heard coyotes
they yelp like kicked dogs
cry like daybirds at their hours there are entire voices
i have never heard
the white noise of the past exist only in time, place
that twilight zone
time which is drowned in
west-south-west gusts
crouched like prey animals desire cover in grasses
sky tense full to bursting distant civilization slumps on the horizon like stars waves of pale grass swell move just like the river
cradled by constellations skin still flushed, panting that feeling of falling
out into the sky again
and singing coyotes
—Fin
Lucid Dreams
A while ago, I stumbled across a picture I took of my kid brother blowing away the seeds of a white fluffy dandelion. On a walk, he saw a bunch and ran to pluck one. “I WISH —” he started excitedly before I could stop him from saying his wish out loud. He was so earnest and innocent that I just had to take a picture. The photo reminded me of the childlike wonder I once had and how it inspired me to start painting. And in hopes of coming back to that, I render the photo that made me remember.
