in my dream, i drive a white convertible
sunlight glistens on the windshield, streaking dust across the glass.
an old camcorder in my hand. something from the early 2000’s— bulky rectangle velcro’d around my palm. with one hand on the steering wheel and the other raised, i lift the camcorder as high as i can reach.
i’m filming for a friend in the West Bank.
barred from movement by Israeli settlers, soldiers, and their accompanying bureaucracy, he has never before seen the sea.
i film the gash of steady tide.
wish wash, the waves. salt and wind sputter across the windshield. seagulls bark, picking at trash along the shore.
i drive the convertible into the waves, camcorder held high.
water thrums the car’s metal underbelly.
crashing plunge.
camcorder, car, and me— all underwater. i reach my hands into the swill of sea and wake up.
long middle of revolution, we press on.
love,
emet
poems:
the moon is pro-palestine by Summer Farah
Naturalized by Hala Alyan
Operation Cyclone by Aria Aber
Mare and Newborn Foal by Jean Valentine
other things:
On February 21st at 19h, Spore Initiative is hosting a collective reading of Gaza Passages. If you’re in Berlin, please join us!
“Like a net, we tie ourselves to one another to stop the dailiness from getting through; we tie ourselves tight enough so none of us get lost along the way. Maximal commitment, minimal loneliness…” Writing in the Hour of Genocide by Fargo Nissim Tbakhi
“Out of the blue, Margaux says to me at the kitchen table one morning: A bonus mom is just like a mom. I put the coffee on, and kiss her forehead. She looks at me intently, smelling like dried saliva and sleep. Then asks: What’s a mom? “… from Bonus Child, an absolutely stunning essay written by my beloved friend, Beina Xu.
my dear friend and creative collaborator, Rachel Edelman, just released her debut poetry collection. Read an interview with Rachel about her book, Dear Memphis, here.
About a month ago, I attended Don Mee Choi and Ghayath Almadhoun’s poetry reading in Berlin. Cozy and intimate, the evening gurgled with language and language-lessness. Here’s a film clip that was shown during the reading— Almadhoun’s piece in Arabic, with English and German subtitles: