Status Updates From Forest of Noise: Poems
Forest of Noise: Poems by
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Madeline
is on page 21 of 96
Sir, we are not welcome anywhere.
Only cemeteries don't mind our bodies.
— Jan 02, 2025 06:34PM
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Only cemeteries don't mind our bodies.
Madeline
is on page 12 of 96
I dream still about my grandfather, how much I want to pick oranges with him in Yaffa.
But my grandfather died,
Yaffa is occupied, and oranges
no longer grow
in his weeping groves.
— Jan 02, 2025 06:21PM
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But my grandfather died,
Yaffa is occupied, and oranges
no longer grow
in his weeping groves.
Madeline
is on page 9 of 96
upon birth, mask up your children and leave them unnamed so
the angel of death can’t find them
someone may ask
why not paint their faces change their names every day
a nightingale on the tree of dusk exclaims
what if both the painter and the paint
work for the angel of death
a stone near a cemetery suggests
why give birth to children at all
— Jan 02, 2025 06:17PM
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the angel of death can’t find them
someone may ask
why not paint their faces change their names every day
a nightingale on the tree of dusk exclaims
what if both the painter and the paint
work for the angel of death
a stone near a cemetery suggests
why give birth to children at all
Madeline
is on page 6 of 96
At fifth grade, I visit the school library.
On a wall by the door, a poster claims,
"If you read books, you live more than one life." Now I'm thirty and whenever I look at faces around me, old or young, on each forehead I read: “if you live in Gaza, you die several times.”
— Jan 02, 2025 06:12PM
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On a wall by the door, a poster claims,
"If you read books, you live more than one life." Now I'm thirty and whenever I look at faces around me, old or young, on each forehead I read: “if you live in Gaza, you die several times.”
Madeline
is starting
Every child in Gaza is me.
Every mother and father is me.
Every house is my heart.
Every tree is my leg.
Every plant is my arm.
Every flower is my eye.
Every hole in the earth is my wound.
— Jan 02, 2025 06:02PM
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Every mother and father is me.
Every house is my heart.
Every tree is my leg.
Every plant is my arm.
Every flower is my eye.
Every hole in the earth is my wound.














