A love letter to the city that made me
A bridge has landed on my doorstep & a paper is asking me to leave / behind what isn’t mine.
She remembers the rituals she had imbued with her own significance: how her ex used to bring her a single flower after every exam, and how she’d watch it wilt on her desk as she studied for the next.
I’m often the outsider-insider and sometimes a bridge.
Looking back at 9/11 and the Fall 2011 issue of the Asian American Literary Review
“I think if we can hear from each other that being a model minority is not the only way to have value, and that being the good child is not the only way to be a good person, what might that unlock?”
An Oral History of New York’s Arab and Muslim Community After 9/11
“I feel like my writing is always either at a micro-cellular level or a drone level. There’s this constant cycle between being way too close and things feeling surreal, or pulled way out and things also feeling a little surreal.”
I turned around to check whether the llama was still there. There he was, as fluffy and clueless as before, lashes waving as he sat on a tattered red mat thrown on the aisle.
You desire a final frame / that suits and comforts, / a framing that supersedes / a death denied
When the sky is falling / you must learn to / generate a force field.
What knowledge, beyond fluency, is required in acts of translation?
What does it take to strengthen and sustain the solidarity built in responses to crises like 9/11?
In the gentle pull of the first light, / we hobble to stand our bodies / ours and wanting
I should have studied their faces as they said goodbye, the way they smelled, the lines on their hands.
I emerged a tether / -less, violent hiss // of becoming, staring winter / straight in the mouth.
What kind of exhibit on revolutionaries would it be without a living Palestinian? The rub of course is there are so few of you.
India Home offers South Asian seniors a place to be themselves
A bridge has landed on my doorstep & a paper is asking me to leave / behind what isn’t mine.
When the sky is falling / you must learn to / generate a force field.
She remembers the rituals she had imbued with her own significance: how her ex used to bring her a single flower after every exam, and how she’d watch it wilt on her desk as she studied for the next.
What knowledge, beyond fluency, is required in acts of translation?
What does it take to strengthen and sustain the solidarity built in responses to crises like 9/11?
I’m often the outsider-insider and sometimes a bridge.
In the gentle pull of the first light, / we hobble to stand our bodies / ours and wanting
Looking back at 9/11 and the Fall 2011 issue of the Asian American Literary Review
I should have studied their faces as they said goodbye, the way they smelled, the lines on their hands.
“I think if we can hear from each other that being a model minority is not the only way to have value, and that being the good child is not the only way to be a good person, what might that unlock?”
I emerged a tether / -less, violent hiss // of becoming, staring winter / straight in the mouth.
An Oral History of New York’s Arab and Muslim Community After 9/11
What kind of exhibit on revolutionaries would it be without a living Palestinian? The rub of course is there are so few of you.
“I feel like my writing is always either at a micro-cellular level or a drone level. There’s this constant cycle between being way too close and things feeling surreal, or pulled way out and things also feeling a little surreal.”
I turned around to check whether the llama was still there. There he was, as fluffy and clueless as before, lashes waving as he sat on a tattered red mat thrown on the aisle.
India Home offers South Asian seniors a place to be themselves
You desire a final frame / that suits and comforts, / a framing that supersedes / a death denied
