鈥淚f the world is ending I want to be unafraid,鈥� Summer Farah writes in her debut poetry collection that succeeds in firmly holding the reader in its world and startling them page after page. Exploring themes of sacrifice and love, remembrance and return, fear and yearning, as well as violence and devastating loss, The Hungering Years is both a fierce and unwavering witnessing and a desperate plea for healing and hope.
Tryphena Yeboah: Because the collection begins with the poem 鈥淩eading Mary Oliver in La Verne,鈥� I think it is only right that we begin with our mutual love for Mary Oliver. A few days ago, I shared her poems 鈥淢ysteries, Yes鈥� and 鈥淒on鈥檛 Hesitate鈥� in a letter to a friend. Do you recall when you encountered Oliver's poetry for the first time?
Summer Farah: Not the first time, no鈥攕he鈥檚 so ubiquitous! Truthfully, for a while I felt a lot of apathy towards canonical or popular white poets. A lot of young marginalized writers probably felt this way to some extent, that there wasn鈥檛 much they could offer me. I was wrong! Even if I don鈥檛 connect with something, it can spark something. Lack of connection, though, is not the case with Mary Oliver. I鈥檇 read her poems in the sort of live-laugh-love way, you know? Excerpted, decontextualized, maybe even disrespected.
I didn鈥檛 engage with her seriously until I engaged with her playfully. I had a vision one day, maybe in 2020 or 2021, of a booming voice saying: What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life, while the moon from The Legend of Zelda: Majora鈥檚 Mask floated menacingly. And so I made that little image, and then I got obsessed with overlaying profound Mary lines onto screenshots from video games, lines from a few other poets, too, but mostly Mary. It was fun, it was silly, but eventually I ran out of poems online and was gifted Devotions. I stopped engaging for the sake of playing around鈥攊nstead, I read to really read. I felt attuned to the questions she was asking. Mary demonstrates an intense attention that transforms place into company and challenges the reader to pay attention in return. What have you noticed today?
I鈥檝e had a very fraught relationship with the outdoors, with exercise, movement. It rained the day before Mary鈥檚 birthday in 2022, and my parents鈥� neighborhood was still damp the next morning. It had been so hot and gross that summer, so the rain was a wonderful prize. Everything looked greener, lusher, saturated. I read from Devotions that morning and was compelled to take a walk for the first time in what felt like years; maybe pathetic, but I remember that walk making me feel like I was alive for the first time. I wanted to have the companionship of the world the way Mary did in her poems.
TY: A reader does not have to get far into the collection to see your fascination with Lebanese-American poet Etel Adnan. Your 2024 chapbook, I could die today and live again, also engages with Adnan鈥檚 work. Some poems felt like private confessions to Adnan, and it was delightful to be introduced to her writing. I would love to hear more about your engagement with her work, how it has deepened over the years, and what it鈥檚 been like to have her as a muse in your creative practice.
SF: Initially, I struggled with her work. The first book I sat down and read seriously, rather than excerpts shared on social media, was Surge. It felt too far away for me to understand, but I wanted to, because I knew she was important鈥攂oth to Arab American letters in general, but also to people who I loved, people who inspired me, to the organizations that held my work. I began collecting her books, looking for her whenever I was at a bookstore. I thought that physical, location-based connection would strengthen my relationship to the work. It wasn鈥檛 until In the Heart of the Heart of Another Country that she really clicked. She was a weird girl! She saw the vibrations of the universe! She carried a lot of guilt and despair because of distance, she rendered the horror of mundanity while we live within a violent place so profoundly. After that, I felt more ready to learn from her鈥攅ven though the process leading up to that point had already taught me patience and a beautiful relationship to the unknown. Once you learn from someone, you want to let them know how you鈥檝e honored those lessons.
TY: I recently read Omar El Akkad鈥檚 One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This, and I kept thinking about his critique of silence in the face of the ongoing genocide of Palestinians, the lack of accountability and moral courage, and how easy it is for us to look away when we鈥檙e safely distanced from the pain of others. In many ways, your writing of these poems is an active resistance, a voice breaking through the silence.
SF: I don鈥檛 consider my work resistance. I worry that my work can even become pacification. If there鈥檚 something moving in my work that leads someone to dissent, to refuse, to resist, then I am grateful! But the poem itself鈥攆rom someone of my position!鈥攊s not resistance. It鈥檚 a different question from writers in different conditions; I think about Dareen Tatour, the Palestinian writer who shared a poem on her Facebook in 2015 called 鈥�Qawim ya sha鈥檃bi, qawimhum鈥� (鈥淩esist My People Resist Them鈥�) that led to her arrest. A lot of writing on Palestine coming from the U.S. is pacification鈥攖hat to simply point to something, from a voice that is not very scary, is suitable work for the day. To validate how sad we all are. I write from my body, from my feelings, from what I see; the poem is political because my body is political, my feelings are shaped by that what is around us, and the gaze and what it notices is political. The first step is to admit this, but I don鈥檛 find admitting that to be particularly herculean. I don鈥檛 think our first instinct when faced with atrocity should be to write poems to be shared. I鈥檓 shocked by the speed of publication of some books about Gaza, particularly by people not from Gaza. I am disgusted by the obviousness with which so many titles released in 2025鈥攁 year I was intentionally reading new releases from Southwest Asia and North Africa writers for a project with Samia Saliba鈥攚ere by non-Palestinians who surely had their proposals drafted by November 2023. This is not to say only Palestinians should write on the genocide. I appreciate work by people like Mary Turfah鈥攚hose medical expertise and historical knowledge contextualizes violence in Gaza and Lebanon, and I would argue, gives us better tools to organize鈥攁nd poets like June Jordan that have work that continues to resonate, reminding us that the struggle is not new. But, in other instances, opportunism is clear. I encourage us all to be more discerning with the writing we cling to; political education is important to building a better world鈥攚hat world is the author inviting us to imagine? Who is no longer part of it?
TY: What is your first instinct when faced with atrocity, particularly that of others?
SF: Writing is a great way of processing, engaging, learning鈥擨 don鈥檛 mean to say the instinct is inherently bad, nor do I want to imply the way I respond to crisis is good or correct! But, I generally ask myself: What can I do for others? Different types of advocacy鈥攑rotests, organizing in workplaces, community patrols, locating and contributing to mutual aid or trusted charities, it all depends on context. And these feel useful, to a point. Sometimes the sharing of a poem can offer a point of connection, though, and that鈥檚 good鈥攖here are an abundance of harms to work through each day. I recommend spending time on Mizna鈥檚 online platform to see work from writers from Gaza and Sudan, but for collections, I am always talking about Batool Abu Akleen鈥檚 48kg!
TY: When you look back on the writing and editing process, what surprised and challenged you as you put these poems together? Was there an aspect of the collection that changed significantly?
SF: A few weeks ago, Lorde released drafts/demos/notes for her album Virgin. It was a really beautiful listening experience鈥攖he many iterations of each track, from a voice note quality to the beginnings of the final production evident, hearing lyrics tweaked and prodded until they sat correctly in her mouth. I love repetition and so hearing the same song in different forms over and over again was so pleasing to my brain. While I listened, I flipped through my notebook and revisited the hand-written first drafts of the Etel Adnan series; I remembered viscerally the night I had written the poems, five flowing out of me in immediate succession, and you can see that quickness in the sloppiness of my already-awful handwriting. I didn鈥檛 always handwrite first drafts, so it felt like I was holding something precious, preserved.
Some of the poems changed a lot鈥斺�淎FTER WE WATCH ROADFOOD I CONSIDER PLACE,鈥� was much sillier in its first iteration, but found its true form after October 7th. Others were almost word-for-word the same. I had evidence of the many attempts at getting 鈥淎FTER MOUNT TAMALPAIS, I TELL ETEL ADNAN ABOUT SUPERNATURAL鈥� right, one of the most personally important poems I鈥檝e ever written. This was all prior to my publishing process with Host Publications, though. The second 鈥淚 TELL ETEL ADNAN ABOUT SUPERNATURAL鈥� poem was the last one I added to the book, after I signed with Host. I had to go to Mount Tamalpais before I was able to write it. Its addition made me reflect on how strange it was that I could have imagined the book finished without it.
TY: What about its organization?
SM: The main question I went back-and-forth on when ordering the collection was whether to group the Etel Adnan poems together in their own section鈥攍ike Wendy Xu鈥檚 鈥淲e Are Both Sure to Die鈥� section in You Are Not Dead鈥攐r have them scattered throughout the book, like Hanif Abdurraqib does with several series in Fortune for Your Disaster. Those were the two collections I was taking structural inspiration from. But I knew I wanted 鈥�ROADFOOD鈥� to end whatever project it was part of, whether it was a zine or a full-length collection, and so it became working backward from that. If 鈥�ROADFOOD鈥� ends the narrative, how are the other poems in the series limited by this proximity to the end of the text? Do they build momentum? Is it better to let them exist throughout, instead? I worked that out before my submission to Host, but the order still changed significantly during our editorial process. We went from two sections to three, put poems I had originally conceived in Part I in Part III, and on. But 鈥�ROADFOOD鈥� stayed the last poem. 鈥淩EADING MARY OLIVER IN LA VERNE鈥� as the first poem was a last-minute swap, originally it was 鈥淚 TELL ETEL ADNAN ABOUT MITSKI.鈥� I thought 鈥淔or months, I ate as if it was performance鈥� was a better first line. I had spent so much time thinking about the poems as whole objects when ordering, until the very last minute.
My editor, Claire, had saved ordering for the last step precisely because of how lines can change in the editorial process, but I hadn鈥檛 really internalized that until review copies were already with folks. There are poems that transformed significantly鈥攍ike 鈥淧ORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE,鈥� a poem I would have cut had Claire not said 鈥淚f you do anything with this poem before cutting it, maybe consider making it less鈥� which worked (you can see an older version of it in a folio edited by Saba Keramati for Westbranch) or 鈥淧ELVIC FLOOR PHYSICAL THERAPY鈥� which was originally a much less complex form before, again, gentle nudging from Claire. Claire is the best! Those bigger changes shape how I鈥檝e approached the next phase of my writing and editing鈥攊t feels like I鈥檝e said the first and second layer of what I needed to say in The Hungering Years. Now, revising poems is less tightening what flowed out naturally and, instead, attempting to uncover the third and fourth layer of meaning, which I think 鈥淧ELVIC FLOOR PHYSICAL THERAPY鈥� is a model of. I鈥檝e been leaving a lot of complicate this? comments for myself. I want to have an of archive of those shifts, the way I felt when listening to Lorde鈥檚 XRAYS, so I鈥檝e been handwriting more. The topics haven鈥檛 changed much, but hopefully how I communicate them will.
TY: In the poem 鈥�(DEAR ETEL ADNAN) I DON'T THINK OF CARLY RAE JEPSEN,鈥� you write, 鈥淪ometimes I am in love with the almost knowing of poetry. I tell others, don鈥檛 worry if you don鈥檛 understand; truthfully, I pray for obscurity.鈥� Can you speak to this invitation to sit in the silence, the unknown, particularly when it comes to engaging with a piece of art?
SF: Since that poem is so much about learning to know Etel鈥檚 work, I鈥檒l use some of her words, from a conversation with Laure Adler collected in The Beauty of Light. She says, about the act of painting: 鈥淭he fact of not knowing isn鈥檛 discouraging鈥ou get pleasure from not knowing.鈥� There鈥檚 a lot of freedom in admitting you don鈥檛 understand something. I think about how satisfying it is to solve a difficult puzzle in a video game instead of looking it up, to let process and repetition linger in you until it clicks, like now your body has inhabited that mindset long enough for it to be part of you. How it feels to read a poem for the hundredth time and notice something new, so then you feel something new. The unknown trains a new muscle for recognition.
TY: I love what you鈥檝e done with form here. I am thinking of poems like 鈥淭HE BEAUTIFUL MEN鈥� as well as the prose and blackout poems. What writers or teachers have influenced how you think about the shape of a poem?
SF: 鈥淭HE BEAUTIFUL MEN鈥� was informed by the frenetic space and generous caesura that I learn from poets like Safia Elhillo or Aziza Barnes鈥擝arnes, in particular, had these really momentous prose poems that were so effectively populated with space. I admire torrin a. greathouse who is a great experimenter鈥斺�淧ELVIC FLOOR PHYSICAL THERAPY鈥� uses the burning haibun, an adapted form of her invention. I鈥檓 someone who is afraid of a lot of established forms. I really love how Ariana Brown approaches teaching form, prioritizing how form works for us. I was reading Leila Chatti鈥檚 Wildness Before Something Sublime during my editing process, which is all about play and experimentation鈥攊ts precision guided how I attended to the final pass of my poems and how I鈥檝e approached my writing since.
TY: We have to talk about titles because they are hard to miss with each page turn! 鈥淟ISTENING TO OLIVIA RODRIGO ON A PLANE TO SAN DIEGO, OCTOBER 2021鈥�; 鈥淧ORTRAIT OF ME AS A BREAD BAKING IN JERUSALEM鈥�; 鈥淚F THE WORLD IS ENDING, I WANNA GO DOWN DANCING,鈥� etc. What are the stories of how some of the titles came about?
SF: 鈥淚F THE WORLD IS ENDING, I WANNA GO DOWN DANCING鈥� comes from a paraphrased line from the film Gloria Bell, a movie I have not seen! But you might see poems with variations on that title from other Arab American writers that I bounce around with. At Wet Hot Arab American Summer, a writing workshop hosted by the Radius of Arab American Writers in 2019, Hazem Fahmy told us extensively about that movie, for some reason? And that line, specifically. I truly cannot remember why. But a group of us were really enamored with the sort of drama and glamour of the sentiment and made a rough pact to write poems to it. A few weeks after the workshop, I was thinking about the summer I had had鈥攏ot just at RAWI, but seeing other long-distance friends at a wedding, the concerts I had been to with people I did not often see, and on, and how lucky I was to have friends in so many corners of the world, and how much I missed them all of the time. The long title felt appropriate to capture the abundance that the poem became. In general, I love a long title! It is a little goofy and I like making people laugh. It gives the poem a looseness before going in, while still situating us precisely. I enjoy the first line being the title, too. Let鈥檚 just dive in!
TY: To steal a line from 鈥淎 YEAR AFTER I FIRST LOVED HAIKYUU!!,鈥� what art has invited you to treat yourself better? And what art has invited you to consider care as inherent to craft?
SF: I love this question! I鈥檒l start with Haikyuu!!; it鈥檚 a manga/anime about volleyball. There鈥檚 a stunning scene where the protagonist gets a fever during his high school national championship. He is too sick to keep playing because he鈥檇 been pushing himself too hard. His coach sits him down and says, I know it sucks to have to stop, but remember this feeling, and how badly you want to keep going, and know that resting and prioritizing your health is also volleyball鈥攜ou can鈥檛 sustain your craft if you can鈥檛 sustain yourself.
There鈥檚 Sundus Abdulhadi鈥檚 Take Care Of Yourself, which engages critically with the notion of care and how it operates within movement and art spaces. I read this book, as well as Fariha R贸is铆n鈥檚 Who is Wellness For? the same year as Haikyuu!!鈥攖he three operated surprisingly well together, three pillars of helping me think through how I was treating myself and how it impacted my ability to do good for others. It鈥檚 taken a long time to internalize the lessons that I took from Haikyuu!!, but a mantra鈥斺�渨orking until being okay has become habit鈥� really resonates with me. I am trying very hard every day. I鈥檒l add a more recent one鈥擨 saw Maddie鈥檚 Secret a few days ago, the John Early film about an up-and-coming recipe developer whose eating disorder relapses because of the stress and attention. Maddie displaces her issues with food onto her creative career, which is something I鈥檝e done (in The Hungering Years) and so of course everything suffers when you lose the illusion of control. There鈥檚 a grounding sentiment delivered by Early as Maddie, that she didn鈥檛 want someone she cared about to treat themself the way that she treats herself. An inversion of treat others the way you want to be treated. Care for yourself the way you want your loved ones to care for themselves. Don鈥檛 substitute work with legitimate rest鈥攁nd unfortunately, like craft, rest is something you have to practice at, too.
TY: Wrap-up list of Poets and Poems that have stayed with you over the years:
A poet you鈥檒l read anything by: Trish Salah
Two poets who inspire you: Chase Berggrun and Fargo Tbakhi
A poem you know by heart (or wish to know by heart): 鈥淲e Are Both Sure to Die鈥� by Wendy Xu that begins, 鈥淏ut I feel like a person again.鈥�
Two nightstand poetry collections: Currently, Party Line by Kyle Carrero Lopez and Thalassa by leena aboutaleb.
A collection you鈥檒l read again and again: Kingdom Animalia by Aracelis Girmay
A poem for summer: Leila Chatti鈥檚 鈥淚 Went Out to Hear鈥�
A poem for a hard season: Lena Khalaf Tuffaha鈥檚 鈥淟etter to June Jordan in September鈥�
A poet you鈥檝e recently discovered: I read Turning to Fiction by Donna Masini recently, the first time I鈥檇 read anything by her, recommended by my friend Maria Gray who is her student, and it feels silly to say I 鈥渄iscovered鈥� an incredibly established and accomplished poet, but now I鈥檓 like, Wow, everyone, you gotta read Donna!!!! I think, especially if you vibe with the way pop culture and art is used throughout The Hungering Years, Turning to Fiction would be your jam.
Two poems we should read after reading this interview: 鈥溾�� by Samer Abu Hawwash, translated by Huda Fakhreddine and 鈥溾�� by Umniya Najaer
is a Palestinian American writer, editor, and zine-maker from California. She is the author of I could die today and live again (Game Over Books, 2024), poems inspired by The Legend of Zelda. Her debut full-length poetry collection, The Hungering Years, was published with Host Publications in February 2026. She sends out the occasional essay, mostly about Supernatural, at . Currently, she lives in Los Angeles, pursuing a PhD in Creative Writing & Literature at USC.
is the author of A Mouthful of Home (Akashic Press, 2020). She teaches English and creative writing at Tennessee Wesleyan University.
