“Yes, artists like Forough Farrokhzad were brilliant, and yes, their legacies continue to shine, but make no mistake: they were brilliant precisely (and solely) because they were Forough Farrokhzad, Sadegh Hedayat, Bahman Mohassess, or whomever else – not the Iranian Sylvia Plath, Kafka, or Picasso. Their works spoke (and speak) for themselves, and comparisons to perceived Western counterparts, however gratifying some may find them, are not only beside the fact, but also disrespectful and disempowering.” Reorient Mag
Olena Kalytiak Davis, Shattered Sonnets, Love Cards, and Other Off and Back Handed Importunities
Sharon Olds, True Love
Stephen Crane, In The Desert
Cameron Awkward-Rich, Meditations in an Emergency
ANTIGONE: The fields were wet. They were waiting for something to happen. The whole world was breathless, waiting. I can’t tell you what a roaring noise I seemed to make alone on the road. It bothered me that whatever was waiting, wasn’t waiting for me.
Jean Anouilh, Antigone
Etel Adnan, The Spring Flowers Own & The Manifestations of the Voyage
I’m trying to give you everything I have. But I can’t find it; I can’t find it yet.
Alice Notley, In The Pines
Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry
& if I were to forgive you (& I know I could)
who would be left
who would be left
to forgive me?
Hieu Minh Nguyen, Afterwards
Mahmoud Darwish, Mural
Fariha Róisín, How to Cure a Ghost
“You kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry. Only / the sun has come this close, only the sun.”
