I Don't Know If I'm

In A Subway Car, My Skin Would Typically Fall In The Middle Of The Color Spectrum. On Street Corners, Tourists Would Ask Me For Directions. I Was, In Four And A Half Years, Never An American; I Was Immediately A New Yorker.

Yes, Manila Had Its Slums; One Saw Them On The Drive From The Airport: Vast Districts Of Men In Dirty White Undershirts Lounging Idly In Front Of Auto-repair Shops - Like A Poorer Version Of The 1950s America Depicted In Such Films As Grease.

She Was Struggling Against A Current That Brought Her Inside Herself.

Islam Is Not A Race, Yet Islamophobia Partakes Of Racist Characteristics.

Sufi Poetry Is, In A Sense, Self-help Poetry About How To Live A Decent Life, How To Deal With Your Mortality.