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Kaleem Hawa

Kaleem Hawa has written about art, film, and literature for the New York Review of Books, The Nation, and Artforum, among others.



Articles Available Online


Hating it Lush: On Tel Aviv

Essay

May 2023

Kaleem Hawa

Essay

May 2023

I   They made the desert bloom, tall sparkling towers and clean Bauhaus lines, and apple-ring acacias, and teal blue shuttle buses, and stock...

Poetry

Issue No. 28

Three poems from issue 28

Sarah Barnsley

Valzhyna Mort

Kaleem Hawa

Poetry

Issue No. 28

Valzhyna Mort, ‘Music for Girl’s Voice and Bison’   Sarah Barnsley, ‘Virginia Woolf Has Fallen Over’   Kaleem Hawa,...

She-dog   He wrote to tell me his dog had died I wanted to be her, I wanted him to cry for me, to hug me I fall I stretch my legs The detachment of the spirit is like a sedative Life slips away in a succession of images Streets Nights The danger of passing cars Before dying, the stars give out their last glitter to the puddles     La perra   Me escribió para decirme que su perra murió Quise ser su perra para que me llore y abrace Caigo Extiendo las patas El desprendimiento del espíritu como un calmante La vida se escurre en una sucesión de imágenes Calles Noches El peligro de los autos Antes de morir, las estrellas entregan su último resplandor a los charcos     Wrong   Today I dreamt I dialed any number and you answered I told you I was naked and that someone was after me You told me to hang up, and that nobody would get hold of me You are getting older in my dreams, the snow colours your hair white You are staring at the tired body of a rat unable to make its way through the ice You don’t know whether to push it towards the flakes of death or towards the coffins of snow     Equivocado   Hoy soñé que marcaba un teléfono cualquiera y me atendías Te dije que estaba desnuda y que alguien corría tras de mí Me respondiste que colgara, y que nadie debía alcanzarme Estás envejeciendo en mis sueños, la nieve te dibuja canas Mirás el cuerpo cansado de una rata que no puede hacer camino a través del hielo No sabés si patearla hacia los copos de la muerte o hacia los ataúdes de la nieve

Contributor

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa

Contributor

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa has written about art, film, and literature for the New York Review of Books, The Nation, and...

after Mahmoud Darwish    Why is a boy an exclamation,  and why are his dead a period?,  why do his sinews tighten when he sees  a Palestinian body? Does his vision narrow  because of their flight,  or because their world is raining with salt?  Why is a boy with a gun different  from a boy with a jail cell?,  if the tools of rupture are our arms for  repurposing the body, and the arms of  the state are our means of repurposing the male,  are we finally useful and breathing and nervous…?  Does the white mean Night’s arrival?,  or does night signal the white’s escape?,  and when that white city boy becomes  a White City man,  does the hate in his heart subside?,  or does it become an ellipses,  a Bauhaus history of stories started  and left unfinished 
You Arrive at A White Checkpoint and Emerge Unscathed

Prize Entry

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa


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poetry

June 2011

Malcolm Starke Died Today

Kit Buchan

poetry

June 2011

Malcolm Starke died today who rang us most nights so late that it could only be him. He’d been...

fiction

January 2014

The Dispossessed

Szilárd Borbély

TR. Ottilie Mulzet

fiction

January 2014

The Dispossessed is Szilárd Borbély’s first novel, although he has been active – and widely acclaimed – as a poet,...

fiction

Issue No. 3

Fifteen Flowers

Federico Falco

TR. Janet Hendrickson

fiction

Issue No. 3

To Lilia Lardone Summer was ending. The air already smelled like smoke, but it still looked clear, sunny. The...

 

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