The man is me

Wassim Hage


Somewhere along the shoreline
there is a man vomiting, in a good way:
colored socks and a wide sense of home, big trees, big sky, small
             brain, small eyes
here is a public excess, a genetic engine and I would suspect foul play,
but how did you figure? big and brutal structures make flower
             variations in the parking lot
This is the most beautiful color, the color of your cat, the hunger in your
   endow there: a solar pleasure, the unique experience of knowing
             something others don’t
take a second to hold your oneness and tell me something I don’t know
the restaurant down the street, a little shack serving looks, let’s make
             it a date
I believe in the magic of a heart hardened by the wind, the crisp
             currency of citrus motes
and a rain of leaves in autumn, falling to signal that you will be
             receiving a message shortly
from your beloved or from the beast who babbles to you in your sleep,
             calming rue
effective grout council, little go, letting grow the perfect palette of
             your lips and mine

I love the campus, the aching dent of your smile, we’ll go back to school
     we’ll grow bold together and miss all of our classes, knotted leafy
          verve climbing



Wassim Hage is a poet, scientist, and activist currently studying at the University of California, Berkeley. A son of the Arab diaspora, their poetic work hopes to explore human gesturality, interpersonal relationships, and life as a person of color in the United States. As an activist, they work in particular to fight against settler-colonial projects and exploitation of the third-world poor. They are also pursuing their PhD in botany.