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Meta
A line drawn on morning
Stumbleupon Review
A line drawn on morning sands
Shimmers, sussurates, and is erased
By the sweet spice-scented Scirocco
Blowing deep from the dark heart
Of the desert
Our boundaries too are lost
As we pack the night’s belongings
And set one foot
After another
On the road to Al Maghrib al Aqşรก
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Text mine.
Photo toureg – Alex Solich.
When you’re travelling
Stumbleupon Review
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When you’re travelling,
The stars talk to you.
What they say
Is often sad.
— Orhan Veli
The clock
Stumbleupon Review
The clock:
Ticks.
The tap:
Drips.
— The phone —
Rings not.
The street:
Murmurs.
A radio:
Chatters.
— The phone —
Still silent.
The cat:
Purrs.
Someone:
Sighs.
The cable:
Lies severed.
~bunty

A man is working on the buses
Stumbleupon Review
- A man is working on the buses in the US collecting tickets.
He rings the bell for the driver to set off when there’s a woman half getting on the bus. The driver sets off, the woman falls from the bus and is killed. At the trial the man is sent down for murder and seeing as it’s Texas he’s sent to the electric chair. On the day of his execution he’s sat in the chair and the executioner grants him a final wish.
“Well” says the man, “is that your packed lunch over there?” “Yes” answers the executioner. “Can I have that green banana?”
The executioner gives the man his green banana and waits till he’s eaten it. When the man’s finished, the executioner flips the switch sending hundreds of thousands of volts through the man. When the smoke clears the man is still alive. The executioner can’t believe it.
“Can I go?” the man asks. “I suppose so” says the executioner, “that’s never happened before.”
The man leaves and eventually gets a job back on the buses selling tickets. Again he rings the bell for the driver to go when people are still getting on. A man falls under the wheels and is killed. The bloke is sent down for murder again and sent to the electric chair. The executioner is determined to do it right this time so rigs the chair up to the electric supply for the whole of Texas.
The bloke is again sat in the chair. “What is your final wish?” asks the executioner. “Can I have that green banana in your packed lunch ?” says the condemned man. The executioner sighs and reluctantly gives up his banana. The bloke eats the banana all up and the executioner flips the switch. Millions of volts course through the chair blacking out Texas. When the smoke clears the man is still sat there smiling in the
chair. The executioner can’t believe it and lets the man go.
Well, would you believe, the bloke gets his job back on the buses. Once again he rings the bell whilst passengers are still getting on, this
time killing three of them. He is sent to the electric chair again. The executioner rigs up the whole United States’ electricity supply to the chair, determined to get his man this time. The man sits down in the chair smiling.
“What’s your final wish?” asks the executioner. “Well” says the man, “Can I have that green banana out of your packed lunch?” The executioner hands over his banana and the man eats it all, skin included. The executioner pulls the handle and a bazillion volts go through the chair. When the smoke rises the man is still sat there alive, without even a burn mark.
“I give up” says the executioner, “I don’t understand how you
can still be alive after all that?”. He stroked his chin. “It’s something to do with that green banana isn’t it” he asked.
“Nahh” said the bloke,
“I’m just a really bad conductor”
Zeek | Shoot Your Tired, Your Poor, Your Huddled Masses: The Biblical Stor
Hagar (2005)
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Judaism is founded on the paradox of exile. In Genesis 12:1 Abraham, the first Patriarch, is commanded by God: “Go for yourself from your land, from your relatives and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation.” Abraham obeys and leaves with his wife, Sarah, for Canaan – Eretz Israel. There God appears to Abraham and tells him: “To your offspring will I give this land” (Gen. 12:7). Yet later, Abraham is also told that his offspring “shall be aliens in a land that is not their own.” Nes engages the story of Abraham and his family in two photographs, Abraham and Isaac and Hagar. In Hagar, the protagonist appears as a beggar in a deteriorating, leaf-strewn stairwell open to the elements. The story of Hagar and Ishmael’s expulsion by Abraham and Sarah is often used as a symbol of the expulsion of Palestinians during the 1948 War and her name has been appropriated by Israeli peace activists. Nes’s depiction of Hagar can also be interpreted in light of narratives of feminine identity in Israeli culture and their imbrication in politics. Read against projections of Oriental and European notions of femininity vis a vis constructions of Israeli female identity, she is neither the passive, exotic beauty nor the hardworking pioneer who nourishes the land. Yet circumscribed by her role as mother, she is representative of the universalized suffering of a woman who has lost or may lose a child. An icon of anguished Arab or Jewish motherhood, lost in the desert, Hagar is a woman cut off from the land that defines her through the functions of giving birth to and nourishing the boys who will grow into the men who will inherit and control that land or die for it.
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