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Upcoming Events

For the digital press kit, click here 

Readings: 


March 23, LA, Westwood Branch, LA Library 6pm
March 25, La Jolla, DC Willis Books, 7 pm
March 27, LA, Skylight Books, 7:30 pm
March 28, LA Bindercon, 11 am
March 28,  LA, Levantine Center, 7:30 pm
Minneapolis AWP:
Appearances April 8-11
April 9, 04:30:PM - 05:45:PM
Arab American Authors Reading
Room 200 B&C, Level 2
 
April 9  10 pm Gamut Gallery, Willow Lit Reading

 
April 10
12:00:PM - 01:15:PM  Writers of Color Moving Beyond the Boundaries of Our Communities: A VONA/Voices Writers Panel
Room 101 F&G, Level 1

1:30 pm to 2:45 pm Robert Muroff Bookfair Stage, Level 1 F200. The Child's Got Her Own: The Girl Narrator Comes of Age. (Debra Busman,  Elmaz Abinader, M. Evelina Galang, Faith Adiele)

2-4.  Meet me at the Willow Books/Aquarius Press Book Table for a Signing and Reading 

 

April 11: 8:00 pm to 9:30 pm Consequence, VONA/Voices, Generation One
The Loft Literary Center, 1011 Washington Avenue South, Minneapolis, MN 55415 

 

 VIDEOS 

This House, My Bones From Willow Lit

This House, My Bones, Political Intelligence

 

From the Proper Purgation...

...these words are not enough
are not coming as quickly as tragedies do
our language is not our language instead
invented by the murder of the heart,
of hearts ruptured by magnitude coming
too fast and the words hold fire hanging ...

 

 

 

 

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This House My Bones

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Writer's Statement

The conversation with history is witnessed by the earth and etches the collisions on its body—every rock and road, riverbed and meadow hold the marks of migrations, escapes, exiles, alienations, aging and evolutions. In This House, My Bones, the body and the earth exchange their positions and perspectives. The memories of war are on the skin as well as on the mesa, the exile is written in dust and cells. Through mining experience of occupation, dislocation, and aging, I created poems where the body and the earth examine their bruises.

 

 

 

from Falling Into The Ocean

...In exile we write of lost cities, countries that formed the friction ridges on our fingerprints;
every story pushes harder  as if articulation is redemption          or at the very least allows us
to point to the place on the map where the house once stood. Maybe all of that:
houses and schools, roads and churches, even the neighbors are less the point
when the foundation gives way. Everything can be lost just that quick.