MOHAMMED KHAÏR-EDDINE Three Poems translation by Conor Bracken
I beat the sky with the questions of my fists
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I beat the sky with the questions of my fists
Such an odd circle / of bell ringers / we are
So give me the world then.
we / were just talking, / like people talk
Often what I want is impossible
Glory exists along a continuum.
Even the blue sky was generous
My head was in the middle / of something.
maybe this is a kind of stealing, too—
The building between the buildings. A child, / Graveyards.