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Hussein
Hussein
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mighty fucks

Even M.H. fell victim
to the trend. of describing,
if not defining, this odd group.
A group of craftsmen. They
do not wear uniform. And they
brush their teeth like Dodong does. And they
pop a zit on a bad day. And they
wank off to models that mark vanity
with pink ink in their pocket bibles.
And they loathe the shit. the dogma.
whichever came first. that some
mighty fuck created the universe.
because to them. a word. yes, one fucking word.
is all there is. to create.
And so they describe, if not define,
an equivalent universe.

December 19, 2009 | 12:13 PM Comments  0 comments

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blank for now

accidental things. they feed
    on your nimble mind.
    the naivete of a christmas carol.
    kindness to hungry tots
    on your way to the airport. one
    sports a sinister grin minus the front teeth.

your skill in singing. to the tunes
    of silent night. holy night.
    you don’t have to fuck her hard.
    still. no one dares to shush you.
    you. tenacious little rat.
    and the thought of strangling you
    with the seatbelt crosses your neighbor’s
    holiday whims. jingle bells rock.

you keep singing.
    before it turns out to be
    a perfect day. stuffed Lilo blue. and beaming
    at the way it was tucked. in the carry-on bag.
    with two books of poetry. Haddon. and Poe.
    soon you realize you forgot to buy
    Stitch. which your favorite niece fancies.

now guilt is written all over. mirror. walls.
    even toilet seat. of the cubicle. where
    the only thing you want to do is avoid
    the flush button. because (and this is true)
    the cabin pressure is more than you can handle.

you pause. and then you take a second look.
   you flush the toilet. and then you wait
   for touch down. not another accident.

December 19, 2009 | 12:03 PM Comments  0 comments

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foul play

foul play. leads to a fray.
little children and their arms black-and-blue.
angry moms seem restless. they throw a boo.
but a sad tale unfurls. enter dad.
draws blood. and the story goes bad.
what lesson learned from competition. gone astray
(???).

November 25, 2009 | 5:52 AM Comments  0 comments

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mail delivery failed

hey,

I write to let you know.
about small things. as usual.
things you don’t know
things that are here.
things that I know.
small things. and beside the point.
like the mangoes that fell
on the roof. on that makeshift house
you called retreat. the thud.
I heard it last night. when I dropped
something, it’s not important,
but it made the same thud.
And there was a dog.
I should say ‘the’ dog,
because I have this fear. I told you.
I know you’re laughing now
because the dog wore a muzzle,
And it went to get me.
I couldn’t have been bitten.
But it scared me sh!tless.
I wanted to stick a stick through its heart.
One more thing. Before I end this
(what is this?) letter. Tell me
If I should never do this again.
There is this plant. it was there.
even before I moved in.
and it’s dying now. and it’s there
waiting for that final minute
when the last drop of water dries up.
like that little plant outside my room.
I can't name a plant. for sure that one was dying.
not because it had too much sun.
nor too little water. I just knew it was dying.
like I knew things were fading out.
right before my eyes. and yours.
and maybe they were so,
because I write small things.
never too big to matter.
I have to end this. now.

Hussein

November 12, 2009 | 4:24 AM Comments  0 comments

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ketsana
Translations available in: English (original) | French | Spanish | Italian | German | Portuguese | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

it aint the answer
to the weatherman’s rented word
that of a new day
filled with calm,
yet. the wind still a gust,
the houses stand no more.
stilts adrift. roofs awashed.
and a drowning man
holds on. picture in hand.

two dead sons. a dead wife.
and the man. about to lose grip.

on tv, a body floats.

October 28, 2009 | 3:29 AM Comments  0 comments

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poesía del mar

I want to forget.
Just as I dutifully watch
The sun sinking
Below this flawed horizon.
Just as lifeless bodies
Of strangers. indifferent
To the list. of a worried man.

When breeze from home finds me
I shall send you a kiss. And a message
That forgetting is for the dead

And when the wind tells you of this
I shall have dug a hole in the ground.

--------------------------------------------------------

My thoughts raced against a woman’s voice
blaring a subtle deadline. 10 minutes.
What possibly can a man do to stop time,
To change fate. Undo the tragedy that befell our love?
I no longer have fortitude to see us through another parting.
I cannot fight the nights that haunt my dreams,
Each one waking me to an empty universe in my bed.
I did not want to hurt you, my love.
So when the woman spoke again,
And people started to gather, passport in hand,
I left my sorrows and yearnings
On this island where I cried seven nights to sleep.

----------------------------------------------------------

If the waters can redeem me
I shall no longer be. alone.
For the tide will collect its prize
And reward its faithful minions.
A sacrifice unworthy of redemption.
A man who refused to live. And lives on.

September 30, 2009 | 12:01 AM Comments  0 comments

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The spell of March
Translations available in: English (original) | French | Spanish | Italian | German | Portuguese | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

why burden me
with thoughts of a bond. fleeting
as stories you collected.
when you passed those dark alleys.
tales you filled with colors.
your hand shaking, like that of a child.
look, I have a child’s hand, too.
tracing the etchings of a day
when we walked by the bay,
yours and mine- we wrote a story.
but it ended. like water on a page.

why take me
for who I am, a stranger
who does not know the world
where you remain, enslaved
by a culture. shy hello. and later,
a bold goodbye- this word
I had to learn, like musings
of a dancer, who realized
that her feet were stolen
by a guest she had danced with
that night. streets turned to yellow.

August 21, 2009 | 6:31 AM Comments  0 comments

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glory in defeat
Translations available in: English (original) | French | Spanish | Italian | German | Portuguese | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic


and
when finally,
I took a lungful
of salted air
and
dove under white water
ounce after ounce
of defeat
amidst elegiac silence,
water
grabbing me
by the hand
and
throwing me
to the depths
of certain end-
I knew,
inside,
that I
would have suffered
or died
had I been
A little braver.

July 7, 2009 | 1:50 AM Comments  0 comments

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you against yourself
Translations available in: English (original) | French | Spanish | Italian | German | Portuguese | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

You define it.
Words trespassing your being,
like a knife-thrower
missing his target.
But only with rage. with that feeling
of space. Betrayed.
Time to run the circus.

Save the fiddle.
horse and carriage dragging a point. in a circle.
about a weeping statue.
protesting against wayward fancy-
and the gift, a mask that resembles truth,
though it cannot save you.
You deny it.

May 21, 2009 | 12:13 AM Comments  0 comments

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untitled
Translations available in: English (original) | French | Spanish | Italian | German | Portuguese | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

It was a Tuesday when I spoke of love,
That at first I did not care to trust,
For once I had been left for dead. in the Carnival.
Then there was chance. and a blissful recess.

But time had marked another Tuesday,
When I heard only the quiet of resignation,
That you might not have meant to tell.
Over hushed signs only the deaf could gather.

Still I return to the haunts of misery,
Of dissent. Of resentment. And of frailty-
As a mother bites her lip in pain
When her baby suckles blood, not milk.

April 14, 2009 | 10:43 PM Comments  0 comments

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