This is a collection of poems inspired by love, loss of love, and other events that began in late July of 2000. This is my autobiography in poetry form. It's not just about love but also about the loss of those I have loved. I had fallen totally and...
In 2010 I got married again. My new wife was Elnaz Rezaei Ghalechi. We met in an unusual way for Americans. I was going through a dark time and didn't feel very worthy of anyone and anything. I had been publishing a poetry magazine called "Word Salad Poetry Magazine" and Elnaz, who I call Elee, was a poet who had been submitting to our magazine for some time.
Here are some photos of us in Turkey. You can't make out the location in the first photograph, so I will ask you to scroll down to see another photograph of Ankara. I have never been outside the United States at any other time.
Hoppsan! Denna bild följer inte våra riktliner för innehåll. Försök att ta bort den eller ladda upp en annan bild för att fortsätta.
Elee was studying medicine in Ardabil, Iran and I was living in North Carolina, USA. We met in Ankara, Turkey. Here is a photograph of the large Mosque in Ankara.
Hoppsan! Denna bild följer inte våra riktliner för innehåll. Försök att ta bort den eller ladda upp en annan bild för att fortsätta.
So, in this story, as I was saying, we came together and lived as husband and wife in ways that are not typical for Americans. Usually, a couple doesn't have to meet in a neutral third country and then one of them has to immigrate to the country of either the husband or the wife.
Visiting Turkey was the only time I have left my country. It was an amazing place. People were so nice and they could tell I was from a country far away. Many spoke my language. They were friendly but they drove very fast and dangerously. Whoever complains about New York taxi drivers needs to visit Ankara. And it's not just taxi drivers in Ankara.
Anyway, the food was quite a discovery for me as well. I had a restless spirit and would walk around the city. I didn't have my own car so I could only walk out the door of the hotel and down the streets.
It was okay to be alone. I wasn't snubbed as that "American" guy who doesn't speak the language. They knew I was the "American" somehow.
"Come into my restaurant," I was invited to a place a few doors down from the hotel.
"Oh, you speak English," I mused. And I thought, "gee, how friendly they are!"
So, eventually, my wife came to America. We struggled. We had a home.
I have a friend and someone I call part of my family.
It's something permanent. It's something that really matters to me.
Hoppsan! Denna bild följer inte våra riktliner för innehåll. Försök att ta bort den eller ladda upp en annan bild för att fortsätta.
