This is the new blog...CONFESSION ZERO


(iraqi child)
i do not mind
worms or beatles
in your mouth
depleted green lips
accented yellow teeth
eyes bleeding brown
don’t cry, mamai enjoy visiting sundays…

(iraqi youth)
Secretly wishing I wasn’t there
her rocking chair bumping
the bombed out wall
cold air blowing
through windows of wrecked hope
afternoon seven to eight hours cold
the dead season upon us
wishing for a blanket
a warm cup of joe
or mama’s laughter

(iraqi elder)
Home for the occupation anniversary
standing on the old porch
stooping to pick up my keys
wrenching my back- cursing-
d-o-u-b-l-i-n-g my fist
trying to stand
seeing the old war ravaged house
or what’s left of it
seeing the Tigris and birds quiet with oil
silence now landlord- muted
stooping to pick up my keys
trying to recall the laughter…



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