bloom

By |February 21st, 2011|

The expectation
fed for years on a
steady milking of a
thousand words
budded on swooning
starry auras meshing
to form a net to catch the universe
and time to melt […]

Peace be upon him

By |February 15th, 2011|

*”Ya Mawla, send prayers and peace always and forever Upon Your beloved, the best out of all of Creation.”

They stoned you once
until your […]

Misr memories

By |February 1st, 2011|

Mahmood is maybe nine or ten or somewhere older but you can't be sure with kids like him who know the world once their eyes can focus on it.

Does Immortality come bundled with Love?

By |January 28th, 2011|

for all your talk of
strength and person
you know that you would
unbuckle at your knees
fall heart-first out of your mouth
at just the thought of him […]

Hura

By |January 26th, 2011|

Hura

When will it be
that a generation
has its baksheesh
not as some grudging gineh
tossed into a palm
but as a sweet freedom
dripping off of kunafa.
A huriya lingering […]

Maybe the clouds are brooding

By |January 24th, 2011|

Maybe the clouds are brooding

For the most part,
children are
adult-improvers.

Free printables: baby shower gift tags

By |January 24th, 2011|

I designed these swing tags to complement the favours given out at my sister-in-law's baby shower.

Zuma’s Bastard: Final cover & supporting material

By |January 24th, 2011|

Zuma's Bastard is available at Exclusive Books stores nationwide, as well as on www.kalahari.net

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Do we call on One the same?

By |January 23rd, 2011|

Do we call on One the same?

How is it that
a light in my heart
becomes
a stone in your hand?

That a tongue in your mouth
is a […]

My first review

By |January 19th, 2011|

It could also be, ambitiously, a six word memoir or epitaph: "She constructed interesting and meaningful sentences."

Ducts

By |January 11th, 2011|

Ducts

It is better for
my mother to cry over
the poems I’m driven to write
than
that which
drives me to write poems.

I wonder what sort of child we’ll make

By |January 7th, 2011|

I wonder what sort of child we’ll make.
Will he be clumsy and good for good’s sake?
Will she be clever and write on the walls?
Will […]

Base, slap, tone

By |January 6th, 2011|

My fingers aren't made for strings to strum,

My Mother

By |January 3rd, 2011|

Ummi,
softer than stone
and stronger,
has run between
Safa and Marwa
for as long as
I’ve breathed.

At her feet
gush the springs
of home and hereafter.