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Fayetteville as in Fate
. . . I mix metaphors among them like a reckless cook throwing things into a pot hoping they don’t explode when they touch each other, hoping they don’t turn bitter when the heat rises . . . Mohja Kahf is a poet and professor of English. This poem is included in her E-mails from […]
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Ghazal for Iranians Who Don’t Hate Arabs
To Rom, and Parichehr Today I met Iranians who don’t hate Arabs. They smiled and said “hey, selam,” even knowing I was Arab. They didn’t have green eyes, yet they seemed to bear up pretty well without them, and they don’t fault Arabs, not all of us, at least, for Nahavand, and the bloody flare-up […]