A Wizard Is Never Late
/…wavering glimpses in my head—
The scene of a luminous curve in a valley road
The zest of a new morning in a sunny pavilion
Whispers of promises telling of a coming…
By Fadi Abu-Deeb
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Clairvoyance
/…have come
From all those humid and warm bazaars
From those home-streets of pricking noise
From the fields of fanaticism that turned…
By Fadi Abu-Deeb
Read MoreThe Epiphany Of…
/…in the middle of a snowy plain,
I throw my head upside down
Toward the forest behind
Like a child trying to…
By Fadi Abu-Deeb
Read MoreHiding Behind…
/…digging up the root of madness,
I behold the tribes of our planet
putting off the peels of civilization;
I try to ward off the rays of the black…
By Fadi Abu-Deeb
Read MoreDid I Get Lost…
/…an exhausting effort of trying to make the driver understand that he should stop on the hilltop “in front of the stairs that reached up to the cemetery road” at the beginning of that slope that descended towards my home. He could hardly understand my…
By Fadi Abu-Deeb
Read MoreWhy Are You Painting?
/…are you painting trees?
Because a tribe of birds wants to live close to me.
Why are you painting a flood?
Because, in my spare time…
By Fadi Abu-Deeb
Read MoreOn Cosmic Poetry
/I use the term "cosmic poetry"…
————
…mingle within the cosmos and to speak about it as though you are, yourself, one of the trees in a jungle with countless details, or a wave in an ocean that no one knows how and where to locate; one deer among the multitudes of its species, or a moose that veils herself in the depth of a…
By Fadi Abu-Deeb
Read MoreThe Eyes of the Perennial
/…I’m still sitting under the young fig tree in the garden of our old house, holding the first volume of Ricarda Huch’s work on German Romanticists. It is as if I haven’t left that book at all, despite what I thought, that I abandoned its ideas many years ago. Thus, Schelling’s and Novalis’s romantic ideas…
By Fadi Abu-Deeb
Read MoreSearching for the Mental Plant
/…o some pieces of the Gymnopédies and the Gnossiennes by the French composer Erik Satie, I always feel as if I’m living in the 18th or the first half of the 19th century. Among other images, I’m walking into a Parisian alley, perhaps searching for a French book…
By Fadi Abu-Deeb
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