The postures I held for long breaths by the flow of the Ganges I did not hold to achieve light I held no star in sight as I turned my … Continue reading →
I want to know what happened
On January 7, 1982
Half past one in the afternoon
In Evin Prison
Our only hope for the future is to abandon the futile quest for hegemony and instead commit to peace, cooperative diplomacy, international law, and disarmament.
During the hostage crisis, when I was Albanian,
my history teacher conceded, “You’ve to be born into English
to be its rightful citizen.” I wanted to be an American poet,
but was a Persian settler.
Suddenly, I remember Ezzat
Who was shot in Evin Prison
And buried in the Cemetery of the Infidels
In a mass grave without any gravestones.
Thanks to Thomas Friedman’s relentless service as a mouthpiece for US empire and capital, he’s permitted to continue churning out his pseudo-thoughts week after week.
And then someone from another rooftop shouted a verse of Rumi’s poetry into the clear night air.
This is not the end. Lessons from ancient Iran.
What Evangelicals Could Learn From The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam
A 16-year-old Iranian girl has been notified by the local morgue to identify her mother’s body. Over the course of the next 15 minutes, this painful task proves to be more difficult than we could have ever imagined in Alireza Ghasemi’s engrossing and humanist portrait “Lunch Time.”
In unsettling ways, the crisis is working for him as previously untenable policy options are becoming essential to curtailing the coronavirus.
I do not wait for poetry
But go in search of it
Because my wings are broken
And I am left far from my nest…
In this essay, we hear a first-hand account from Mel Packer who was one of the Americans who visited Iran during the hostage crisis of 1980.
As long as the top executives of our privatized war economy can reap unlimited rewards, the profit motive for war in Iran—or anywhere—will persist.