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  • For a moment it appeared an oracle...
    so encrypted I could not make out the message.
    (from The Oracle by Kathy Weinberg)

    Perhaps, it should have been a road to Damascus moment.
    (from Message by Helen Crawford)

    (Two threads intertwined. A
    Central Park oracle inscrutable
    & a picked-up hello from the mud.)

    Dimashq sits in ruin. Its minarets
    sing out praise for the caliphates
    of Assyrian splendour gone.

    Dimašqa a wilderness. Akkadian
    semitics mingle shoulder to shoulder
    praying for change.

    Dammaśq eats its own. Coughs up
    infantile wounded like badges
    to foreign journalists.

    Dammeśeq a vaccum. Nothing
    comes in & nothing out
    but caravanserai peddlars.

    Darmeśeq stirs itself. Remnant
    hope above the rooftops
    rises once more.

    Damascus a chimera. Atop
    the feckless squalor raging
    against the dying of its day.

    (Damascene road at dusk. Tentmaker
    from Tarsus struck by hello
    dug from the mud of affliction.)
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