On a summer’s day of solstice,
does it matter, the sun reaches
its most northern point in the sky
three errant scorpions reach
her left plump alabaster arm
a yellow crazy swirl
floats on whiteness, &
what do we know of it
a scorpion is a scorpion is a scorpion
in her arm, three scorpions
chiseled with dexterity
& when the sirocco wind gusts
it’s time to get some refreshments,
does it matter, where?
everywhere, what matters,
is how to properly
Freedom, a blueprint for chaos by proxy
an endless tsunami,
amid the speaking ashes,
a joyful blockade of everything.
Words on walls aren’t everything.
They said, “practice makes perfect.”
I say, laundry of brains comes first.
Rain is there to wipe out
words on walls.
Why don’t you write on the brain? Why
don’t you spark heat in words on the walls?
Of course, the walls of brain/
“Practice makes perfect,” they said.
Ali Znaidi lives in Redeyef, Tunisia. He graduated with a BA in Anglo-American Studies in 2002. He teaches English at Tunisian public secondary schools. He writes poetry and has an interest in literature, languages, and literary translations. His work has appeared in The Bamboo Forest, The Camel Saloon, phantom kangaroo, BoySlut, fortunates.org, Otoliths, Dead Snakes, Speech Therapy Poetry Zine, streetcake magazine, The Rusty Nail, Yes,Poetry, The South Townsville micro poetry journal, Shot Glass Journal, the fib review, Ink Sweat and Tears, and Mad Swirl, and is upcoming in other ezines. He also writes flash fiction for the Six Sentence Social Network—http://sixsentences.ning.com/profile/AliZnaidi.
Post a Comment