W/ the windows open, a new syntax
opens before me: A procession of fallen
dead leaves against the repeated wounds
of summer/ a coconut breaking against
Within each leaf, an itch stirring
the stagnant swamp/ feverish ripples,
blossom. & autumn is good enough to act as
In the Airport Lounge
He was standing for hours searching for
a rare poem. A rare poem which never
fades away in the crowd.
He was standing for hours waiting to
experience an epiphany— a spiritual
revelation akin to the promise of a rose
which never withers away in the oblivion.
The airport lounge was just the beginning
of the ebb & flow.
— A simmering fever of a Sufi began
Ali Znaidi (b.1977) lives in Redeyef, Tunisia where he teaches English. His work has appeared in Mad Swirl, Stride Magazine, Red Fez, BlazeVox, Otoliths, streetcake, & elsewhere. His debut poetry chapbook Experimental Ruminations was published in September 2012 by Fowlpox Press (Canada). From time to time he blogs at – aliznaidi.blogspot.com