Poems

Plume: Two poems

Spring Snow Prison Pantoum

Sing I Let: Epistolary Erasure

Woman as Heron’s Nest

Accumulation

Some Thoughts on Metaphor

Romance of the Fragment

On the Orange Jumpsuit

At the Shooting Range

Obon

You Take the Diaphragm Out and the Body Opens Like a Book

Against Closure

ESSAYS/Interviews/ etc

Regarding Bombs and Fly Fishing

A Reflection on Hands 

Amir Shefayee

Sarah Lawrence College

Field Notes on Complicity

Mapping it

Mothers Over Nangarhar – speaks back to the world while being deeply aware of its own nature in this wakeful way, aware of the strange and haunting paradox of having given life to the world that encircles it and having also been brought to life by that same world, the paradox of being in the middle of a war without being on the ground, the imagination brimming in the wake of the ship of state. The book circles its subject with the poignant uncertainty of whether it is merely observing or being dragged down into the depths. These are poems that move like liquid, pursuing what has been lost in those distanced decisions as life turned a corner and bent out of sight, that move with a foreboding sense of an approaching but unconfirmed shipwreck, having passed cindered flotsam in the sand.

—Rowan Ricardo Phillips

Afghanistan

Nangarhar is a province in eastern Afghanistan on the border of Pakistan. Its capital city is Jalalabad. The province was once a refuge for Osama bin Laden.

Bedford Hills Correctional Facility for Women