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"She looks at her dirt. She stares at her odors. Exhausts. Dirty diet of the mind. She warms her spiders in pockets of dirt."
"A series of temptations: Every moment is as apropos as the next–the key signature, promises, the rising and setting of the sun all have nothing to tell me. What I am ashamed of, I invent."
"The workshop has germinated and informed hundreds of poems, books of poems, enduring friendships, other poetry workshops and poets who now teach them, and people who now call themselves poets."
"My dream told me that my powers of poetry and song gain footing despite what is missing, with what is missing."
"what we are actually doing when we converse?"
"I want to destroy the lyric voice."
handwritten poems by Maged Zaher
Author of 回 / RETURN on the reversible poem
On Richard Skelton, Loss, and Matching the Stone
In January, I photograph the hands in order to change the flow—
an ever-updating post of recipes
ten notes on consumption, conjuring, comprehension, and closure
Would it be blasphemous to say or suggest that there is, sometimes, something almost ancestral not only about the people in our lives from whom we are separated and held at a distance, but about the distance itself
Notes and a Poem
