Issue 12 Winter 2018 RUTH AWAD is an award-winning Lebanese-American poet whose debut poetry collection, Set to Music a Wildfire, won the 2016 Michael Waters Poetry Prize from Southern Indiana Review Press. She is the recipient of a 2016 Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Award, and her work has appeared in New Republic, The Missouri Review Poem of the Week, Sixth […]
ASADULLAH KHAN GHALIB known by his pen name, Ghalib, is the famous romantic and mystical poet of the Mughal Empire in India. He was born in Agra in 1797 in a time of political transition. His lifetime saw the rise of the British colonial empire in India and the concomitant decline of the great Mughal Empire, which had been reaved by internal dissent, succession battles, and waves of invasion from Persia, Afghanistan, and the Marathans of the south and which was finally eliminated after the Sepoy Rebellion of 1857. Ghalib was the proud descendant of a Turkish military family that traced its lineage back to Tur, the son of Faridun, the legendary Persian king whose rule began with his defeat of the demon king Zahhak (as related in the Shahnameh, the Persian Book of the Kings). His poems are characterized by great wit, puns, and a mystical, erotic imagery so passionate as to veer at times into the surreal. He is the acknowledged world master of the ghazal. The ghazal form is the most important short poetic form in Arabic, Persian and Urdu poetry, as the sonnet is in English. It is characterized by an initial couplet with a rhyme-repeated phrased combination, followed by a rhyme-repetition in the second line of each succeeding couplet, and a “signature” in which the poet addresses himself in the final line of the poem.
Love, I can’t own you, but give me lunacy, at least. Let my last lunacy be your legacy, at least. Don’t cut all ties with me. Let me hate you and you hate me, at least. What shame in me being with you? If not in public, see me privately, at least. Go ahead, believe […]
In the inner workings of the tulip, a red scar burns hot. The farmer’s blood sears him; he’s relieved when lightning burns the crop. Here’s the thing: until the bud blooms it feels secure. Despite its collected heart, the flower’s dream is torn apart. I’m too weak to bear this impatient grief —a straw in […]
Again I recall her tear-glazed gaze. My heart and liver call out, thirsting for my lover. Doomsday had not yet paused for breath when I recalled the time you left. Oh, Desire, your simplicity makes me recall my lover’s witching glance. Excuse my longings, O thirsty heart. When I call out, I recall my lover. […]
INTERVIEWS Eric Shonkwiler interviewed by David Bowen Power & Light Juan Gelacio interviewed by Robert Joe Stout Invisible on Paper ESSAYS Leonard Kress What Kind of Parent Lets a Thirteen-Year-Old Cancel Her Bat Mitzvah? Erinn Seifert Changing FICTION Mollie Boutell Intimates Malcolm Cumming Mere Anarchy Liz Egan Sgt. Lawson Brian Kamsoke Useful Things POETRY Ruth […]