Jennifer Acker's Blog, page 69
October 25, 2021
Safety Advice for Staying Indoors
MARY O'DONOGHUE
The farmer was bored by waiting. He should make bread, one loaf for fresh and one to freeze. He knew the basic operations, how much of what went when, but he didn’t have the hands for bringing it all together on the table. And that, his wife had insisted, was the true route to good dough.
The farmer was bored by waiting. He should make bread, one loaf for fresh and one to freeze. He knew the basic operations, how much of what went when, but he didn’t have the hands for bringing it all together on the table. And that, his wife had insisted, was the true route to good dough.
Tupac of Mamourah, 1999
ANNA ZACHARIAS
The worst were hitchhikers, said Sami. Never, ever pick up hitchhikers in the mountains. Everyone knew mountain hitchers were jinn in disguise. You could only recognize them by their cloven feet. Never mind jinn hitchhikers, said Mayed. His friend’s village in Oman...
The worst were hitchhikers, said Sami. Never, ever pick up hitchhikers in the mountains. Everyone knew mountain hitchers were jinn in disguise. You could only recognize them by their cloven feet. Never mind jinn hitchhikers, said Mayed. His friend’s village in Oman...
Dey
STEPHANIE DINSAE
A young child, I was privy to hearing this word / in my household, around my uncle and his friends / reminiscent of his schoolboy youth. / A part of a pidgin I could never participate in / for fear that the broken English might / have too much of an essence...
A young child, I was privy to hearing this word / in my household, around my uncle and his friends / reminiscent of his schoolboy youth. / A part of a pidgin I could never participate in / for fear that the broken English might / have too much of an essence...
Disorder
FARAH ALI
Early one morning, when the sky was still dark, Annie locked herself in her room. She turned the key three times, then went to her bed and opened a book. At half past seven, her mother knocked on her door and told her to get up. Annie didn’t appear.
Early one morning, when the sky was still dark, Annie locked herself in her room. She turned the key three times, then went to her bed and opened a book. At half past seven, her mother knocked on her door and told her to get up. Annie didn’t appear.
Who Writes the Arabian Gulf?
NOOR NAGA
I have dreamt of this Arabian Gulf Portfolio ever since I was a teenager, writing about snow and squirrels and picket fences—despite living in Dubai where I had more experience with temperatures of 40+ degrees, karak chai, compounds… Because English was my first language...
I have dreamt of this Arabian Gulf Portfolio ever since I was a teenager, writing about snow and squirrels and picket fences—despite living in Dubai where I had more experience with temperatures of 40+ degrees, karak chai, compounds… Because English was my first language...
Oman Is Mars: An Alien All Along
PRIYANKA SACHETI
The first time my husband visited me in Oman years ago, he peered down from the plane window and received his first glimpse of the landscape: an undulating palette of browns, beige, mauve, and grays. This is Mars, he thought to himself. Mars on Earth.
The first time my husband visited me in Oman years ago, he peered down from the plane window and received his first glimpse of the landscape: an undulating palette of browns, beige, mauve, and grays. This is Mars, he thought to himself. Mars on Earth.
Castro Street
PHILLIP WATTS BROWN
As through a prism, the city shifts / to rainbow. We cross into technicolor, / the famous marquee lipstick red / against blue sky.
As through a prism, the city shifts / to rainbow. We cross into technicolor, / the famous marquee lipstick red / against blue sky.
Rite
KWEKU ABIMBOLA
Douse my skull. Take your / hands and comb my hair— / then, plait it. Surprise me, weave my hair / into something terrible. Into the flourish / you fear. Because if you don’t, I’ll know. // If I open my eyes and have nothing / to shelter my scapula and clavicles / from Asamando’s wind, I’ll know.
Douse my skull. Take your / hands and comb my hair— / then, plait it. Surprise me, weave my hair / into something terrible. Into the flourish / you fear. Because if you don’t, I’ll know. // If I open my eyes and have nothing / to shelter my scapula and clavicles / from Asamando’s wind, I’ll know.
In Search of Hassan Matar
HITEN SAMTANI
Sultan rose just after six and was almost immediately on email with his staff. These were less exchanges and more bursts of orders. It was important to him to be, and to be seen as being, decisive. He’d stretch, wash, pray, and get moving—a few minutes with his kids, some dates and laban, and time to go.
Sultan rose just after six and was almost immediately on email with his staff. These were less exchanges and more bursts of orders. It was important to him to be, and to be seen as being, decisive. He’d stretch, wash, pray, and get moving—a few minutes with his kids, some dates and laban, and time to go.
Screensaver
ROBERT CORDING
Sure, every photograph is an elegy / to what was, but this photograph— / which I’ve turned into my screensaver— / of my son, dead nearly three years, / has him suspended in mid-air. / He has just jumped from a rocky outcropping /
thirty feet above the shimmering water /
of Lake George...
Sure, every photograph is an elegy / to what was, but this photograph— / which I’ve turned into my screensaver— / of my son, dead nearly three years, / has him suspended in mid-air. / He has just jumped from a rocky outcropping /
thirty feet above the shimmering water /
of Lake George...
