FARNOOSH FATHI

Home State


What will come so soon to my
Door with a dandelion
For a knob, when asleep from all sides
I am a horse about to be braided,
Asleep in the shattered pajamas of man.
I sat by the pea, a world in the moss:
The sun rose, the day
Was toast: It began, lit down, with running the soft moss
Out of question, and stirring the good walls in
To where I sat. --One still ties his hat to a worm from his home
    state.
Few affections I've left, he said --a breath perfectly folded,
Thought that, to some of my peers,
Is the crop of pure pacing. A glass elevator stalls at the groin,
A horizon falls like a tree
Into place, but if I think of everything I cannot hate
If I think of everything I know there isn't evil
Trees of a clearing
Small of a vase



90     The Paris-American

Farnoosh Fathi was born in 1981. Her poems, translations, and prose have appeared in Boston  Review, Fence, Everyday Genius, Poetry, Jacket2, and elsewhere. Great Guns, her first book, was just published by Canarium Books. She lives in Oakland, CA.

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   Next week's poet:

 Sophie Cabot Black