Tag Archives: Lilliana Tannous

The Old City

The old city fell yesterday but it left no memory out of place. Born into its eastern wing the son of migrant birds, I once perched high upon the minaret and called memory to mind. And made prayer never to … Continue reading

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Duende

The deep of your song conjures up from ancient vowels turning roundly out the myth of time. Your fits of song release unbodied entering the column of my spine ancient sobbing— marrow in the rhyme telling stories of the bones … Continue reading

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