oh dead bird
come live here
next to this dictionary
we will take walks 
by the edges of trauma

speaking in sleep-bursts
with blue collar desires
I heart your skin
to confront the violence
of the father
the only poem the size of history
is the human

in credible stories
we love whatever is beneath the fog
and the barrenness of others' breaths
the world is held by x-rays
they devour our saliva
plants erode the noise of our thoughts
and we walk into death
half-sad and half-indifferent

dancing as history of the body
nothing useful can be done on a checkered floor
but combating the self: its shape and its desires
and after we emptied our emptiness
we turned into piles of salt:
each particle is loaded with language
then we scattered around popcorn 
it is useful to partake in the end of civilization

The Egyptian revolution turned me into a consumer of history. In its two folds, as immediate in-the-making, which manifested itself in the analysis of the power situation on the ground by clever Egyptian analysts on Facebook. The second is history as theology - history as an accumulation - history as inevitably metaphysical despite Marx best intentions. I actually didn't plan to write this post to talk about this, I wanted to write about how the complex situation of Egyptian politics has triggered such unbelievable split in opinions, there are people I saw eye to eye with all our lives and we are now in opposing positions. Not sure what is the relationship between this and history as theology, maybe this is the point, that history as theology is just our inability to fathom totality.

The pressure of beauty
As one engages in the minor hobby
Of opening oneself
In front of oneself
Maybe a happy rabbit comes out from this singularity
To kiss you midnight

A revolution is a strange thing to live through -- We like it to follow the arch of a fairy tale but it doesn't -- It moves fast and challenges us -- it probably brings the best (one million people self organizing in Tahrir) and worst (gang rape also near Tahrir) in us -- it brings conspiracy theory to the front (because we can't believe we are ever agents of history) -- it challenges all classifications and political stratification models we have (Liberals who are pro military, Marxists who are pro Muslim Brotherhood) -- it - more than anything else - challenges the notion of a regime/system -- turns out we are all part of the same system we are revolting against and we are as flawed as it is -- there is at the end a certain collective trauma we all go through - my "we" is an outsider one - I didn't risk my life in the Egyptian revolution - yet somehow my worst moment of personal defeat that came a year ago - was culminated when seeing Cairo itself defeated -- Cairo - a city that I never truly lived in - I just walked its downtown streets infinite amount of times and this same downtown store lights were/are to fuel my poetry journey until now...