He is ancient steadfast
I am sure he was here when the world was created
I am sure he will be here when it ends
His gentle face carved with hard lines
He poured forth knowledge in his native Persian tongue
He called me Shohre
I learned it was his sister's name
He looked at me like a granddaughter and treated me just as sweet

“Ghabl az enghalab...”
Before the revolution...
After which would follow painful reminiscing of
The days before the current regime
When wine bubbled out from Shiraz
Men and women danced late into the night
And soft voices wove love songs in street cafes

“Ghabl az enghalab moalem dar daneshgah boodam.”
Before the revolution I was a university professor.
“Yeki az daneshjooyanam Ahmedinejad bood.”
One of my students was Ahmedinejad.
And in English, clear as hate,
“He was a *******.”

One night I stayed back for extra lessons
We ate cherries from Costco and
Read excerpts from his autobiography
Pages crafted from right to left, vignettes of
His military service in Mashhad
And consequent teaching career

“Ba'ad az enghalab...”
After the revolution...
Was always followed with war stories
Political dissidents lost to Evin prison
Sharia law imposed on moderate minds
Escaping Iran by night with a phony visa

“Ba'ad az enghalab dar ketabkhane bayad kar konam”
After the revolution I had to work in the library.
“Khoastam yad bedahm, pas man o zanam be Amrika raftim.”
I wanted to teach, so my wife and I came to America.
He has not been home since 1981.

On December third of 2009 he walked smugly into the classroom
Setting a tape player happily on a desk.
He opened a folder from right to left
Produced a well-worn cassette
And played Happy Birthday, in Persian, for me.
He smiled at me with hands folded throughout the song
As I’d imagine he had smiled at
All the other special women in his life named Shohre.

He never played Happy Birthday for any of the other students.
Or gave them cherries,
Or went to their weddings,
Or held them while they cried when their grandfather died.
I do not know what he saw in me
But in each other we found family years and miles away from home.

**** monkey matchin
No silverbackin plus
Cents crackin
Legin generatin genesin
Kept revelation runnin
War paint tattooin
Dropped nitpickin
Not speaking for all seeing
I's
So **** that ind
Short e pro sent
Ridin' those who drivin'
Securin Isisin icinism
Goin' sketch fhiminism
Not scared to fold my poker
Face ain't evin though these
eight *****(is) grabbin
Yea that much baggin
up cruel indifferent
No difference
Just hook line skankin
Splish splashin groupie
Numeration
Won't color gender but hawk skinned race De baitin'
Outlivin' the momentiun
Bendin those poets brigade in
Coded runaway genius claimin sistym
Bro rexin, t burnin'
Cause Im beatin up
Atom baby momma
Metapen sweepin'
Follow him
Or her or them
Just stay the **** away from
Mygenes aint cells splittin eyes crackin'
***** you know you can hear
Me writin'
No x marks the bar outletin
Find another plug
Or source I'm not chargin
Will en riched by those
Germans who made the mistake
Of breedin' while sleepin'
Ima a boss that don't speak
Keep readin'!
This is
Cobbsland. Stop countin
stars shining in daylight poppin
science whorin metaphorin
Alien abductin
Yea, they love them some black
Womins'    shh its a secret          (ethnics ethics)
Gullah grainin
Freed my *** so my mind is
No longer trainin ill rainin'
laggin' no cadillac, no car, in my
dents in my
Accents indentin
I'm not from africa muthaphucka
But i represent
Kin clickin against
Genesin.

kızıl şal gökyüzü
boynuma eşikte sarılan

sanki erken kahvaltı martıya
köpüklü marmara’dan

merci vaha
merci vaha

Dame De Sion mukimiymiş gibi
ne varsa yalayıp yutuyor
beleşe yatıyor her sabah

Fidelio çalacak diyor radyo
şemsiyesiz açılma
mümkünse gitar çal
sakın dışarı çıkma

herşey yerinde oysa
kedi ve de
level atlayan köpekler

sarhoş yürüyor yolda
sayı yapabilse işkembecide
evin yolunu bulacak sonunda

ve
gettolara şiir çizen şahıs
amelie poulain
o bile orda

yürüyorum yarım yamalak
siyahi şarkıyla
içimden detone sessizce

sıcacık Ma Baker
tütüyor francala

ahh o
sonbahar
yaprağı yok mu
görüyorum her sabah

sarı
sapsarı
su dalgası saçlı

hızla düşüyor gözucumdan
zay’oluyor sokak sonunda

üzüyor
bir gün daha
yürüyor
banliyöden pera’ya...

getto sokakları
sonbaharda ölü renge bürünüyor
ve anlaşılması güç bir nedenle
bir kefen içinde soğuduğunuz
ve şişmeye başladığınız hissi
evlerin pencerelerine yansıyor
meşgule vererecek korkusuyla
her sabah köşesinden geçiyorum
diyagonal adımlarla en sevdiğim evin
geçiş izni bakışlar ve yüzündeki edayla
up date ediliyor her sabah
günaydın geçiyor gözlerinde alt yazı
çok özledim dün sabahtan bu yana
clark çekmeyi bilmiyorum henüz
günaydın çekiyorum utangaçlığımla
diri tutmaya yetiyor ilk göz teması
yirmi adım sonunda
kayboluyor endişem sokak sonunda
mektuplar yazıyorum öğle yemeğinde
sabah vermek gayesiyle amigdalamda
haftasonu bi kahve içebilir miyiz?
ciddi biri yoktur umarım hayatında!
adın ne sahi? sahipsizim, sahiplenmekten korkma
vesaire, ve benzeri, ve daha bir sürü zırva
akşam çöküyor umutlarıma, sokak lambasında
perde tadilatta oluyor o saatlerde
yine de bir ümit utangaçlığımda
şişman kadın çoktan çıkmış oluyor geçerken
kapkara bir perde camın dudaklarında
sabah olacak yine yarın diyorum
bir kelebek gülümseyecek yanağında
mektubu veremeyeceğim yine
o yazana dek, akut utangaçlığıma
seviyor biliyorum, seviyorum ben de
ya o düşecek camdan, ya ben bakarken
vuslat çukuruna..

I'm standing under it
But not quite understanding it
It's like a meta human.
Cashing yellowcake uranium.
To aliens to have a brain so *******
Inhumane it slays the stadiums
A proven mood light vanity.
That can test your illusion of insanity.
And entrance your inner gate within
To maybe let
The homosapiens in
Knowing there the same as me.
But somehow I'm the alien.
So take this fake ****. To the alter.
And eat sleep **** with drugs and pay to pray again it's awesome.
You gotta get the matrix in a level of promiscuity.
And avicii sneak in greasy.
With a virtual code.
To ruin any dude you see...
I **** like mood rings on earth.
Are never blue. And I can argue that with impunity.
You see it's me under more scrutiny.
I'm acting foolishly
Like roger rabbit. Just smoked crack
And composed. A poem. So immaculate.
And beautifully.
Done.
That evin brutal truth.
That told me just what happened
To the future me.
Could not begin to counter act
The exploding cavern crater from.
My attractive chest
You usually.
Carve with a butter knife.
To remove. What's actually human in me.... start by removing spleen.
Than his eyes are green.
So cute let's take his tongue
So he shall not praise no other
Beauty queen.