where the writers are

jam | jam

jam-hamidi's picture
Jul.12.2013
I made a long list.A list of people to playsome backgammon with. It wouldn't be nowof course, not while I'm alive.Soon enough I guess. Why backgammon then?Why not just talk, ask questions?Into the great minds? For one thing they'll bein high demand. Snaking lines.Everyone curious. And I don't know...
jam-hamidi's picture
Jul.04.2013
Archean is not the kind of timeyou can count yearly. It was a very long time,a very long time ago. Before was just rock.After Life came to be. A minuscule globe,A blue-green algae ate, so to speak, poisonto make the whole world blue. To let out oxygen enoughfor the likes of me and you. We are now...
jam-hamidi's picture
Jun.17.2013
It's always beautiful in May. And the girls, two by two, followed loudly in the park. The excitement reachedits chaotic crescendo at the sight of the boat-swans. I don't want to write about this. I don't want to stare at the pictures of that lake on Google-Earth, at the fountains, lit high, at...
jam-hamidi's picture
Jun.07.2013
As your eyes dart from the titleto my persian name, you mightstart to tie up your mitts. A Texan sharpshooter?The deadliest in Iraq, with perhapsone hundred and sixty hits? The one who said "I don't shoot peoplewith Korans. I'd like to, but I don't?",in between chews of tobacco? Whether you're from...
jam-hamidi's picture
May.24.2013
They say it's beautiful,if only you could read. The rhyming pattern,distinct in audition, meant to be recitedby the people in need. Every now and then,it draws attention, by breaking free,to a specific display. And this, they claimmakes you belong. You know what I say?I say you can say whatever you...
jam-hamidi's picture
May.15.2013
I'm not thinking of the read, as young as I was, and certainly as removed as the gauche Iranian boy in Western Tehran, of the infamous book on the American dream. And yet there is something to be said of an incomplete understanding of a whirlwind. We, the young, had an idea, passing by the estate...
jam-hamidi's picture
Apr.22.2013
It's futile to parade your self-righteousness to the underworld. I say underworld. Since it understands well a symbolic gesture. Symbolic gesture: the act of puncture of the collective mind. The purpose of which is as old as the racket of whispered protection. They say you can hurt to...
jam-hamidi's picture
Apr.15.2013
Three of them are eying me through their good eyes.  With the green hair net, I would have done the same.  They are younger than I anticipated. I sit down next to my mother.  The room is large and the light bright enough.  I become invisible for a while.  "Code Blue. Code...
jam-hamidi's picture
Apr.08.2013
is such a metaphor for the passage of time. As if we know by instinct what it used to be - mountain, palace, vase, flesh, technology. In an older world, on Mars or the moon, it roams the surface, mimicry of water that was too fragile to much endure, too precious to linger, that boiled to the...
jam-hamidi's picture
Mar.14.2013
Do you rememberhow we first met?Not being cleverI was clueless, more or less,of the provenance of thingsor what became mine. Lying awake, some nights,I could hear heated debatesfrom my parent's room.Their fear seemed abstract.A mathematical line starting in our homeand ending in a pointthat could...