god is lost.
Rumi sets God and me up on a blind date and we meet in his field, hidden away from the haram police. He has long hair and guitar-calloused hands and the oldest eyes you’ve ever seen. Around us, the world burns; I laugh and tell him we need to stop meeting like this. He tells me how the mullahs won’t let him into his own homes, the mosques built in […]
Melancholy Hyperbole 