Between, time
freezes, the perfect
points of the un-astered stars
unmoving in their
fixed array: a field
through which
he streaks...
Day 409
They told me
When they came for me
The man-
His thumb, I bit it off
He needed twenty-four stitches.
Imagine that.
Day...
All the men I might have loved
Have gone to Sirius
Sirius, the Dogstar
The Dreadstar of Summer
That Cranberry Bog, that Red Lamp...
1.
I have been free
but didn’t know myself.
I won’t be free again, but now I know
2.
Your fingers are my bread,
your eyes my wine...
What would have been my right hand—
delicate fingers discolored a bit,
a ghost of a ring, a seam at the wrist—
belonged to Miss...
One day, sitting in a café with Rumi’s ghost
over mint tea and biscuits, he told me about Shams;
rhapsodized over his eyes, his...
If Tordesillas were Tur Disaala
And the ‘New World’ were Moorish
Would the yearning have been so tacit
for the treasures of an...
Al Manara Dirge: Beirut, 10pm, lighthouse enduring power outage.
Twelve hours in the city of my infancy on a night endeavoring...
Welcome Discount
