The Art Divas / Divas of Verse

White Dog   First snow—I release her into it— I know, released, she won't come back. This is different from letting what,   already, we ...

Under Limestone   It rained in fluted torrents, the earth smelled of manure. It was like desire entering and possessing you quietly. We undr...

The Kurdish Musician   She is swaddled in pink, sky-blue and veiled in a gold hejab that with every chime of her santoor dangles its fringe ...

Passer-By, These Are Words   Passer-by, these are words. But instead of reading I want you to listen: to this frail Voice like that of let...

She Ties My Bow Tie   What you thought was the sound of the deer drinking at the base of the ravine was not their soft tongues entering the ...

won't you celebrate with me  won't you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. born in babylon bot...

The Archeologist   In one who doesn’t speak the story petrifies, gets stumbled over, causes hurt. Then, says the man who should know about t...