Four Poems by Ali Znaidi

Of Dejection

the sound of a wounded owl
generates an archipelago
of dejection

blood
torture
painful blues

wings
broken
feathers in the fridge, clunky

architecture of methodological
torture
feather by feather
drop by drop
tunneling dejection blossoms
from fetid feathers

foul owl,
a trap

up and down in the feathers
flies of dejection are jumping—
brigades of the archipelago

contours
ambush
for
[ joy ]


Variations on the Word ‘Mole’

The molehills do not console her,
– nor the moles,
a pigmented nevus
which sprouts on her skin,
& creates nothing but a burrowing
brown light. The mole operates against
her will from within her skin. Birds of
the underground are ready to fly. The
mole still protects the harbor.
Only the seagulls, the choreographers
of the rainbow make her smile.


An Untitled Glass

What’s the point looking at
an empty glass
that mimics our void?

Empty simulation
filled w/ shadows,
hollow hauntologies,
low ontologies,
extinct software,
ex-memories w/ out
titles:
Void is void
though we look at it.

Void
sprouts:

Headlines written in bold


Ants are not just Insects

colossal letters; multidimensional lines,
the word “ant” is, etymologically, “the biter off,”
in terms of physics, tininess or hugeness, doesn’t
matter, ,
what matters is capability, , in fact efficacy,
I love ants when they bite food; a kind of ritual,
I love ants when they bite laziness,
a tiny little creature: : a fabulous teacher;
She taught Solomon how to be humble
& how to respect those who stumble—an early
draft of human rights,
sophisticated highly social creatures,
ants were, in fact, the inventors of social media,
majestical creatures, epitome of endurance—
a version of a successful Sisyphus,
ants’ work, a discourse forged w/ perspiration,
a discourse against destructive anarchy,
I must discover how ants bite laziness, itchy.
I must discover the secret of endurance,
huge mountains couldn’t last, ants always last,
last night I saw a broken-legged ant climbing,
climbing, and climbing a lofty bird’s nest, a scene
of magic, a grand narrative,
the ants’ realm is not terra insect(a),
it is terra cognita instead,
sensory organs: (ant)enna :sense

against censorship,
compound eyes of ants flash as they ascend from
earth to the ether—
etheric discourse drenched in sweet perfume.


Profile: Ali Znaidi

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2 thoughts on “Four Poems by Ali Znaidi

  1. Pingback: Internet Writing in Tunisia: Ali Znaidi and Michael Hessel-Mial in Conversation | Fruita Pulp

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