Majid Naficy: Morning Blend
Every morning my love
Brings me a cup of coffee
With a piece of dark chocolate.
Majid Naficy: Corpse of the Revolution
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…
Majid Naficy: I Have Become a Resting Place
And my mother, who at her death
Called out to her sister Ozra,
Has not yet let go of
My own sister’s hand.
Majid Naficy: George Habash Sandwich
We returned from a Trump protest
And wanted to walk in Golden Gate Park.
We stopped at a sandwich shop
Which smelled like Tehran.
Majid Naficy: Visiting the Moon
I was fifteen years old
When I found the moon in the Biabanak sand dunes.
Majid Naficy: Two Lovers
I still hear
The sound of your laughter
On that summer morning
Majid Naficy: In Spite of Your Aching Body
In spite of your aching body
Get up from your bed
And come to watch the river
Majid Naficy: Great Feast
Death, like a weary actress
Has gone behind the stage
To take off her black dress
And put on her lounging gown.
Majid Naficy: Mosaddegh at The Hague
If you go to the Netherlands
Visit The Hague Court of Justice
On a rainy night
Majid Naficy: Sweet Accent
I like the sweet accent
Heard on the stairs this morning:
Persian with a hint of American.
Majid Naficy: Muddy Boots
in memory of Hossein Okhovat-Moqaddam I wash my old hiking boots And with the tip of my finger Brush their muddy treads. Oh, Dried mud! From which land do you … Continue reading
Mohammad Omidvar: How did the Iranian Revolution go so far off the rails?
. Even though it has to wage much of its struggle underground, the Tudeh Party of Iran, 40 years after the overthrow of the autocratic U.S.-installed Shah, continues the fight … Continue reading
Majid Naficy: A Return to the Garden of Goethe
If your son asks you When was the best day of the Revolution What will you tell him? Will you say instantly: February 11, 1979? The day you opened the gate of Evin … Continue reading
Majid Naficy: Painters
They have erected scaffolds by the bay And are painting the high towers of power lines. The seagulls circle over their heads Sobbing for their lost lookouts. I count. There … Continue reading
