14329758365122696040914219.pdf

No Faith At All

Al-Jundi, Assef.indd 1 10/21/2013 4:46:10 PM

No Faith At All

Poems by Lahab Assef Al-Jundi

Pecan Grove Press San Antonio, Texas


Copyright 2014by Lahab Assef Al-Jundi

All rights reserved.

Cover artPhotograph by Lahab Assef Al-Jundi

Rendered by Sara Al-Jundi

_____________________________________________________

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Al-Jundi, Lahab Assef, 1952- [Poems. Selections] No faith at all : poems / by Lahab Assef Al-Jundi. pages cm. ISBN 978-1-937302-07-8 I. Title. PS3601.L39675A6 2014 811.54--dc23 2013024009

Pecan Grove Press Box AL 1 Camino Santa Maria San Antonio, TX 78228


Table of Contents

A Definition I Can Embrace 1Before I Sit 2Ambush 3Under The Sink 4Blaze 5Ink 6Zooming Out 7Seeds 8Tree 9On the Other Side 10Find 11For The Night 12I Can Find You 13Until You Think of Me 14Nomad 15Shift (I) 16Shift (II) 17I Died Many Times Before 18Exotic 22Like Salt 23Illogical 24Landmine Poems 25Pictures 26Eccentricities 27Submission 28What Is Poetry? 29Sudden Notice 30Life 31Once Upon a Night 32More Scraps 33Just Words 34


Code (I) 35Code (II) 36So Youll Know 37One Night I Found Myself 38Clouds 39At The Door 40View 42No Faith At All 43I Am Earth 45Between Browns and Greens 46Pastoral 47Sandcastle 48Syncretism 49Do You Have a Moment? 50The Other Side of Paradox 51Clutch 52Breakthrough 53I Die Into You 54Slumber 56If The Planet Were Covered with Wildflowers 57Old Hats 58Do No Harm 59The Night The Arab Came Out 60Stormy 61This Poem Is Not Controversial 62Silly Romantic 63Exit 64


1A Definition I Can Embrace

My wakefulnesscan not wrap itselfaround my spirit,or grasp how a fishhatches from a tiny egg,or how a humming birdsuspends itself in flightto savor deep nectar.

In truth, my wakefulness is barely able to stroke the fine-tuned endsof its senses.

I do not understand the choices others make, nor do I want to now.

If I am a seekertrudging up a steep mountain,what do I hope to find at the summit?Myself, of course, making peace


2Before I Sit

Sometimes its an oak branchhanging lowscraping roof shinglesevery time a wind blows.

Other times its the dogs legbitten by an insect.

Rain guttersfilled with rotted leaves,chunks of bark,granules of tar and fiberglass.

Parched spot in the grasspleading for water.

All the things that nag mebefore I sit downin peace and quiet!


3Ambush

we seek solace in counterparts.children grow up.parents age.friends know uson Saturday nights.

keeping busy, we take coverbehind big grins.disappearin the haste of crowds.

ambushed by a sudden moon.corneredbetween a broken wing,and the parched stonesof a dry well.

our choices mock us-to wait?plead for sleep?

we have been here before.marooned.like our twirling planet.this oddly brilliantdesolatemoon.


4Under The Sink

Science would have usbelieve

bears, bougainvilleas, and butterfliescame into beingbecause of a big bang.

But what was ignited?Who lit the fuse?

That substance which explodedcreating planets, moons and stars;did it have kernels of life in itimbued with dreams,

ready to emerge as trees, frogs and water lilies?

Or did our eyes, lips and witshaphazardly sproutfrom chemicals accidentally spilledunder the sinkof chaos kitchen?


5 Blaze

Some evening when you close your eyes,and flash back to a time when you did not knowthat a heartbeat is a light vibrationilluminating the courtyardof your brain,

And you wonder if that was a thousand years ago,or only last night? Or perhaps the world changedsince you last blinked?

Would you reconsider thenwhat over coffee and sweets you deemedintellectual babbling?Re-invented myths!?


6Ink

I can smell the inkas it seeps its wayout of this silvery fountain.

Musky magicallike the ocean where souls are born.

Like centuries agowhen words dazzled morethan technological wonders.

Like a dark blue nightshrouded in mist walking the damp streets of a sleeping city.


7Zooming Out

Alike unitsSide by sideOne on top of anotherDarkLightDifferent shades of greyPerhaps a straight row of charcoalsA curve of whites stacked like wall bricks

Black emerges as the solid voidAll else is superimposed

Squares shrinkFall into larger quadranglesArcs and lines interweaveLife emergesRipplesReflectionsMuddy edges


8Seeds

Some seeds,lentils, chickpeas,sprout the first chance they get.Lay them on a piece of wet cotton,newborn roots break out in days.Brittle shoots,tiny leavesfollow.

To hasten the birth of a mountain laurel,thin its kernels shell with a metal file.Drop it in acid.Anything to help water infiltrate solid crimson armor.Left to its nature,it seeks permanenceA snug crevice in limestone.Sheltered pocket under a fallen limb.It waits for weather to show all its facesbefore it begins yielding to moisture.More moons passbefore the old stone cedes its heart.


9Tree

Goneis the incessant sprouting

toward light,the frantic search

for tiny veins of water.No moreswaying

in the windfrettingaboutwhat

colorsto wear.

Shestands

in silverynakedness

deadalive

beautiful.


10

On the Other Side

What if on the other sidethey stand waitingfor you to tell themwhat it is all about?

Who designedthe mosquito?

Baked sunflowersin summer heat?

Better set some time asidefor rolling on the ground

(if they have one?)laughing out loud.


11

Find

By the side of a trailSmooth rockTwo teardrop earringsEarthy dark metalTranslucent amber

I recognize themThey belongTo an ancient nookIn my memory

One profoundAnguished noteAt a timeI make outMy addressLow in the bendOf her spine


12

For the Night

You wait Your many facesPassing under my eyelids

I play the keyboard poorlyMy fingers do betterHolding on to thingsMoving with themTaking Long pauses

Tonight, you stand under a bare treeYour eyes more tired than mineWinter camped on your lips

Who, if not me,Will make you a cup of hot tea?Hold youTill you cry?


13

I Can Find You

I can find you anywhereas long as you want to be found

Gathered in the folds of solitudeIn the soft embrace of an autumn eve

Mountain falls roar gloriously in darknessFaint stars throw kisses to lovers of night

Light of day does nothing but break up the dewLeaves remember sweet breath of the moon

Gloomy visions persist under brightest lightsBleakest clouds douse not buoyant hearts


14

Until You Think Of Me

I will camp in a cloudnot far from your doorstep.

Lazy in the shadeof one of your trees.

I will waituntil you think of me.

Then, I will go in-to you.Lift you off your feet.Take you for a spin.Breathe you.Drink you.Leave you giddy.In aweof what your thought

can ignite.


15

Nomad

Im up this cold nightYou are still sleepingBut the birds dont know To keep quiet

Something is calling meMore than your warm bodyMore than the touch of sleepOn tired eyes

Many times Im beckonedOr sent backTo open the eyesMove the body from under its coversAnd converse With spirit of the night

I often wonder where you areWhen Im up prowlingIn this place we call Home


16

Shift (I)

Come to this secret gardenYou have been here beforeTasted exquisite fruitBathedImmersed your sensesin its silent moons

Come to our hidden nightIn your heart of heartsyou conjured itScented itwith your perfume

The flame you seedancingas you descendis my passion

Come join me in this ancientlongingto be consumed

Let our spirits twirl in weightlessnessSoarentwinedto depthsunknown

Lovetill we are so drunk with itFloatall the way home


17

Shift (II)

I am the caveman.I have hunted and I have gathered.

Accept me with all my faults.I have but one heart to give.

Take me.Let me dissolve into my creaturehood.

My soul is this meadow,this flame,this window into creation.

Come inwith meunder gaping skies.

In fleshI know ways of the world.In spirit

I could care less.


18

I Died Many Times Before

First time I died, I was still a toddlersitting, in morning sun, on the concrete floorof my grandparents courtyard in Salamiyeh.I watched, fascinated, as the massive snakemade its way from the roofdown the wall in front of me.I held a long stick in my hand, tappedthe giant head as it slithered closer.

Second time, a year or so later,it happened on a starry summer nightas I played barefoot on the backyard patio.Mother came running to my screams.Sobbing, I told her a big butterfly bit my foot.I pointed to where it ran off, watchedas she grabbed a straw broom, killed the venomous desert scorpion with repeated blows.She laid me in a stroller, rushed outwith one shoe on, the other missing,ran for help down darkened streets.

I also died at age five, along with my mother and sister.It happened on the Hama-Homs roadway.Mother unintentionally turned the steering wheelas she twisted her body to chide usfor backseat bickering. No guardrails.Nothing but protruding rocks all the waydown the steep drop-off.

First summer in college, I died in New York City.Muggy night, uptown Manhattan, a block away from Broadway


19

in front of the big Cathedral. I had my arms up, as the man who had just asked for a lightpressed the tip of his knife into my ribs.

Years later,driving home, after working all night,misty morning on Texas two-lane Highway 87,I fell asleep at the wheel. My Chevy slowly drifted left heading for the oncoming truck.

~~~~~~~~~~

Those worldscontinue without me.My tombstones theremark ends of times I knew.

~~~~~~~~~~

In this one,

grandmother, Um Sami, suddenly appeared.Rounded boulder hoisted high. Arms fully extended.


20

How she lifted it? How she took dead aim, and launched itsmashing the serpents head? I do not know.

Still conscious, the terrified look on mothers facewas all I saw. Her voice trembledas she pleaded with the nurse. She was afraid the syringes needle would go right through my toe.

Mother slammed the brakes. Car came to a screeching, precarioushalt, against a lone tree,in a cloud of swirling dust. We stayed parked at the side of the road for a long time. Her hands shaking, she gave us grapes, while she collected herself.She swore never to drive again. Never did.

Let the creep go, the second robber, who had just cleaned my pockets with swift efficiency, told the one holding my life at the tip of his knife. They took pity on me when I told themthere was nothing in my wallet. They slipped it back. Walked off.

I could see the whites of the wide-open eyesof the truck driver, as I twitched awake.I jerked the wheeland stomped the brakes.


21

Time switched to slow motionI sat still,skidding sideways on the wet grass.Glistening asphalt passing in front of me.No sound.... till finallyeverything came to absolute rest.

In this one,

an invisible handstill cradles my bones.


22

Exotic

I still have my accentMy features did not changeA river in my veinsruns to the Mediterranean

Even in DamascusI was a peculiar touristOutnumbered thoughtsOdd questions

Come to find outhome is a faraway exotic placeIts name forgottenbut on the tip of my tongue


23

Like Salt

I once dreamt I was being chasedby a shepherd in a desert.

I, briefcase in hand, in blue suit, pressed white shirt and red necktie.

He, clutching a long wooden staff,in flowing tan gallabiya and checkeredblack and white headdress.

I stopped and spun around to face him.My shock was met by his

I was looking into my own eyes!He was seeing his faceas he stared at mine.

Arab American.

Does one endwhere the other beginsTwo countries separated by a border?

Or do they overlapFloodlights of different colors?

Mergelike salt, silt and sandRiver finding sea?


24

Illogical

I stretch out and shout my lungs outYou do not hear me

Your transparent bodyknows

Behind the colors of your eyesmeadows and fiery skies call me

They crave irrationalpoetry

The hands on your watchtick pointless seconds

Weep in the dark nightsof logic


25

Landmine Poems

You read onand somewhere down the line

you run intoa landmine poem

It explodesin your face

destroying whatever imageyou have built

of me

That likenesswas not mine

Disappointedyou storm off in anger

Call me names

I write on

Plant more minesShatter more false

constructs

till there is nothing leftof me

but this pen and paper


26

Pictures

As a childI resisted standing in for family pictures.

No one could convince me,show me,how a Clickfrom an odd looking contraptionproduced a photograph?

I took my first watch apart.Wanted to find outhow the Tick Tick of the handsis made?

What a marvelous little world.Tiny toothed-rings pulsing.

Much easier to take things apartthan to put them back together.

First question I remember asking my fatherWhat is God?

His answer was more puzzling than gratifying,but after all these yearsI have come to seethat even a donkeyhas God in it.


27

Eccentricities Sacred- Secured, as by a sense of justice, against defamation or violation (Websters)

If we can not examine the sacred,who and what should we probe? The mundane? The trivial?

And if what we hold sacrosanctfails to stand up to inquiry, why keep it in high regard?

What do I revere as sacred?

Lovethat pulled me away from this poem.

Lifedancing in and out of perception.

Entityof blooming eccentricities.

This next blasphemous question on the tip of my pen!


28

Submission

I surrenderedto death

Plodded to her with my certificate of capitulation

She signed itResurrection

Looked at me and sighed Beat itI have other things to do

I burned the documentand ambled off

~

I went to love and pleadedTake meDo with me as you please

If you are wineI will drink youTill this soberness is completely gone

If you are lightPlease let me immerse myself in youLet me breathe youTill I am glowing from the inside out

There is no deeper longing than this

Love smiled and saidI am you


29

What is Poetry?

Is it a trek into wildernessin the waning days of September? Hidden waterfalls, splendid tumbling into streams?

An impulse that nudges youout of a warm cabinon a frigid nightto find yourselfa silver fish caughtin the celestial net of a lit-up sky?

What makes a poem sublime?Does one await its arrival, beautiful,enchanting like those bornin the lavish digs of passion?Or is it built like a house,boat, chair, with blueprints, skill?

What gives rise to a dormant poet? A lovers face in the white of a page? Pain commanding alphabet? Whimsy seizing pen?


30

Sudden Notice

Startle meghost.Make my heart stoptaking sudden notice.

Comeassure me.Reveal a passagewaybetween our worlds.

Ghostyou must knowthe pressing intensityof my desire.


31

Life

Look at meTangled threadsStrings of many colorsAcross your screen

Look at meTwo bodiesOne wears the otherTailored to fit

Look at meEach atom knows its neighborsAll pledged to one allegianceStars in a galaxy


32

Once Upon a Night

I want you,but tonightI am afraidyou will not show up.

Instead of opening my doorto receive you,I stare at the TV a while longer.As if the man digging up an old grave,conjuring evil spirits,is more of a thrill than the mere chanceof your approach.

I want you,but I find myself passing up the chances.Dipping my heels in the shallow brook of time.Growing more restless by the minute.

I do not run to join you like I used to.You lived in my head.I touched you with ease.All I had to dowas reach.

I still love you.I still want you.I just need to unburden you first.To set you free of a weightyou were never meant to carry.


33

More ScrapsThe first scrap of wisdom I received was silence.

-Roberto Bonazzi

We begin with fresh juice not conventionally freshhaving been squeezed long before time itself.And this juice is no guaranteeof what the tree intended.

First scrap, I was meant to keep for lifeEverything else was biodegradable.I was a grown man in a little boys body,but the boy had no idea what to dowith visions of love.

Second scrap, was no scrap at allUnhappy people are extra protectiveof their unhappiness.I planned my escape knowingone fades fast after staying too longwhere he is not meant to dwell.

How do we get carried awaypossessed by wayward thoughts?I think thereforeWrong!Now that is a scrap worth keeping.


34

Just Words

What I fashionis just wordsKeys, clues, seeds,bite-size portionsof baklava.

It is up to youto open doors,decipher riddles,mind your garden,taste the sweets.

The Guest sayswords area transparentraspberry horizon.Borderbetween lips and wine.


35

Code (I)

ComeTake meDevour my flesh

Fill your belly

Leavemy bonesfor scavengersto pick clean

This is the wayit was written

Call it loveif you wish

My painis your pleasure

I am rebornin the creaturethat is you

Sun bleacheswhat remains


36

Code (II)

I pounceRunLeap in airCome down claws to skin

I sink my fangs in veinPush down against groundNostrils flaredEyes scanning side-to-side

Let us feastLet blood soak our whiskersHeat risingFlesh ripped to shreds

Belly fullBreeze feels good on my earsEyes getting drowsySun on my back lulling me to sleep


37

So Youll Know

I am less hunterMore gatherer

War is gloomy at best Victory, a time for mourning

I found no use for religionCould not substitute science

I am a practical-enough idealistSufficiently-sad optimist

I prize the giftof a sensitive core


38

One Night I Found Myself

One night I found myself in purgatoryRooms and furniture of odd proportions.Stairs went up halfway and stopped.Undead people of all ages in open coffinspropped up at random angles.Their eyes, terrified, despondent, followed me as I walked past.

Sickly skeleton of an old mansitting on undersized stoolin the middle of a hallway grabbedmy hand. Appalled, I pulled back,hurried on vowing to scrub my body cleanas soon as I found my way out.

More connecting corridorsat bizarre directions.Caretakers in white shirtsand black jackets toddled aboutOverweight middle-aged women.Skinny old men. Creepy smirks of deranged acceptance.

I came to an empty long hall.One side solid clear glass.Outside, sun, green grass,beautiful grey-haired woman tendingsmall flower garden.I ran and hurled my bodyat the translucent wall.It tore open with linesand wrinkles rippling away.No jagged shards.No crashing sounds.

Outside, I tumbled on moist earth.


39

Clouds

Why did He need six days?Why not four, or twenty three?

Why didnt He just snap proficient fingers?

Perhaps there are limits to His supremacy?Is that why His archrival runs free,

messing things up?How much of the original designdid He complete as envisioned?

Did He rest on the seventh day justto marvel at His handiwork,

or was He simply too tired by then?What has He been doing since?

This nook of the Milky Waycan use some tweaking.

Is He a sad God?An underappreciated one?

Misunderstood?Brilliant artist

before His time?!


40

At The Door If you cant find where your soul is hidden,

for you the world will never be real. Kabir

I was at the door,good night and car keys in hand,when she askedWhats the meaning of life, anyway?

Suddenly, the mystery of the last two hours was untangled.The void behinda stubborn wall of wit.

Half startled, I repliedThat is better left for later.We need more time.

I strolled out. Early evening air probing my forehead.The image of a frequent comic strip floating about meExhausted seeker crawling up a mountainto ask the same question. Bearded guru perched cross-legged at the summitready with a punch-line answer.

Explain life to me!Tell me about infinity.Images arriving at our celestial shoresbelated by some millions of light years.New planets in our own backyard.Worlds in a drop of water.Brain wired with ocean waves and blazing suns.How do I fit in?


41

Magic is not perfect. Order and chaos sleep together.The Divine is nonchalant.

Now, what is the meaning of these words?


42

View

Take one moment.Look as far as you can seeThe universe.All of life.All joys and sorrows.All there is.A snapshot.An instantaneous viewof the whole.

Take another moment.Focuson the smallest point.Tiniest feeling.An instantwith no sides.No depth.No weight.

The two are identicalOne containseverything.The otherwears allon the outside.

One can not existwithout the other.A trance.A singlebeat of oneheart.


43

No Faith At All

We,each one of us,should insiston the right,freedom,choice,indeed the dignity,to start fromno faith at all.

Only the innateexpansivepure page.Most preciousspace.

We,each one of us,need not feel bound,by fear,tradition,or indolence,to let othersdictatewhat we believe!

Doors and windows open,we inhalethe universe.Come intonatural elements.


44

Leave all books on the shelfMary loved and became woman.Jesus was one of us.Moses and Mohammadlocked in hostilities.Buddha and Krishnastatues and icons.Darwin.. Marx.. Sartre..Old news.

Dip your love peninto the inkwell of truth,and with your ownholy handwrite.


45

I Am Earth

Under an oak treea world climbs at my toes

I find a purple doorStep into your dream

A boy kicks a soccer balldown a dusty street in an old city

A man slips across a borderbetween escape and refuge

A sage opens a windowin a candle-lit room

A million acornsfalling


46

Between Browns and Greens

Auburn leaffalls from its tree.Starts curling on itself..Dries up..Slowlydecomposes..

An emerald onebreaks throughdark chocolate.Compact tube drives forth..Opens delicately..Unfurls its young skinto the sun..

Seasons dancebetweenbrowns and greens..A shy unhurried waltz.Musiconly loves instrumentscan play..


47

Pastoral

I wake up to the singing of birdsInsistentPersistentAs if this spring has driven them mad with desireInsane with longing

There is no other time like thisGreen is both king and queenSubjects, troops, animals and skyNewborns everywhereMothers flushed and beautifulFathers proud and boasting

Green is the million shades of love in springEvery twig and branchEvery tree, weed, and blade of grassIncite these birds before first lightTo dance, dance, to their inner urgingsLike nothing else mattersTo sing, singHear me world.. I am alive!


48

sandcastle

whirling winds ~ frothy waves

intricate sharp features dissolving

giving way till all lines bit by bit vanish into a mound barely visible aboveground

one day you learnedto love

windspassionate kisses

to revelin swirling foam of the tides ~


49

Syncretism

Some wordsare poems unto themselves

They tuck the linesbetween their letters

In the palm of yUnder the arch of cOver the cross of tOn the crown of i

They lie in waitbetween covers

Ready to dance

to your glance

Syncretism

CombinationReconciliation

of different religionsphilosophies

to reachunion

Wordpoem

proprioceptivelyahead

of its time


50

Do You Have a Moment?

If time is one dimension of many, then life that exists within itcan exist without it.

Absent time,talk of beginnings and endingsis meaningless.

A life that is- always been-does not- never did-require a beginning.

We are left then- always were-within- what we create.


51

The Other Side of Paradox

Centeris stillness

Sightno guarantee for light

Shadowmeans nothing by itself

How long to dwell on deathto delight in life?

Have all questions been answered?What if the answer is no?

Truth?It is our shadow


52

Clutch

If I was alive before I was conceivedin a world without distances,a time of countlesszones,

If that is home away from this baffling space of straight lines, universe of curvedlight,

If forgetting is a necessary condition,remembering an exception of playful lunacy or sudden illumination,

If translation is an alluring distortion at best,

What chance do I have of ever hearing more than a vague echo of my voice, seeing but a faint apparition of my being?


53

Breakthrough

She was onceegg and sperm.

Yielding pellet. Wiggly minnow.

Millions of possible combinations.Frenzied scramble to break through.

Of all probable outcomes,only onehas a lentil-shaped birthmark on her lower back.

Obscured from her wakefulnessis a juncture before timewhen she held a flouncing seed in the cup of her hand,gently placed it on moist, ripe-warm loam.Watched it burrow itself in.

Profound shudders went through heras the tiny kernel split-Growinginto the delicate organism she will plummet intoin timefor that most violentemergence.


54

I Die Into You

I slipped into solitude No particular destination in mind Space yawned stretched Swallowed time

A small sideway step to the left of her name I found her Bare seduction Gathered in my flame

Tears spoke her utterancesEnshrouded me in her emotions

Ultimate compliment for my dialect of devotion

When she gave her love to Jesus I was Him

After the rapture she deemed our act a sin!

Unnatural guilt I said Took another step to the left


55

I love you she seductively whisperedCupped me into her breast

I die into you Every sweet death An ecstatic rebirth

I am made of it


56

Slumber

How real was she? Light reflecting off her open coats glossy black lapel. Faint reddish abrasions, like razor burns, on milky skin above her pubic bone.

Why didnt clear irrationalities trigger alarm in my nonchalant consciousness? Young couple making furious love in a transparent tent pitched in my living room!

I just enviously walked past. Two young women passionately kissing goodnight in the darkened back bedroom.

Not even my bed next to the refrigerator?! As if the kitchen is where it always belonged!


57

If the Planet Were Covered with Wildflowers

If the planet were covered with wildflowers,and someone dies a cruel death in China,all the blooms would disappear.A space of darkness would fill their place.A time of sorrow.

Have you ever drank from eternitys cup?Eternity has never tasted so good.Why would I wake up with a wildflower-covered world, death in China, and eternity?Only my dreaming-self knows!

All poetry is assembled from letters of an alphabet.All these diverse faces are two eyes, two lips and a nose.Everything we ever knew or will knowcan be told with ones and zeros.You still think creation is that complicated?

My heart is covered with wildflowers.I think I will go back to sleep and grow some more.This world could render me arid with blowing windsif I did not drink and drink,

Pour thunderstorms of blue grief


58

Old Hats

When you hear a poem read,you may smile, nod approvingly,break into gracious applause.Or you may fidget behind a stoical face,feeling the ribs of a stiff chair.

Perhaps you prefer to read a book?Look at the poems stacked in their boxeslike ripe peaches.Feel fuzzy skin, smell warm nectar, pickthe juiciest.

The poem asks: What am I for?When was the last time peace broke out because of a poem?Can a thousand poems save one olive tree?

The poem can be a glum creaturewhen her grand ambitions come callingdressed in extravagant old hats.She leaves, seeking the acquaintanceof lesser, yet likely wiser, yens: Salty olive with a fat pitin the mouth of a refugee.Wailing stone in clenched fingers of a daring teenager.And what the hell,a ripe peach.


59

Do No Harm

Nothing wrong with Spring Breakbut some linger therefor decades,

start a war.

We can imaginea world in peace.What is hard to grasp

is why those who cando not.

Every empire, Roman to Ottoman,fucked things up and died.

Let us change course whilethere is time.

I see perfectionas I look back under my wing.

Ahead a warm kitchenand a good friend.


60

The Night the Arab Came Out Masqat, Oman

Was it the gentle nights air?Spices and incense in the souks alleyways?Jagged peaks ringing the Old city?

The Arab came out beaming.Soul in shoes.

My grief is an indigo ocean.


61

Stormy

What I conspireis free to roam.To go out.Nestle in a young womans bookor in an old mans pocket.To sleep in houseson freshly laid sheets.Climb to executive suites.Start a revolution.

Free to go and do.Free for the takingand not always grateful.


62

This Poem Is Not Controversial

it has no enemiesdoes not want to argue

defend one pointor attack another

this poem is at peaceit exists

past oppositesbeyond contradictions

it has but love to offerfeels no need

to namethe nameless

between wordsin the spaces around letters

this poemshines


63

Silly Romantic

How light can I get?How silly romantic?

How much lovecan I feel?

I ama happy fool

and I dont care

I feel her amorous fingerson my face with kisses

of morning sun

I see herdancing

in swayinggauzy

threads

I hear herwith every whisper

of breezethroughplayfulchimes

I am cradled in this moment

I do not know

I do not needor want to know

anythingbutlove


64

Exit

How does one walk into a room without depth?Make himself comfortable on a blue line?

How can one talk to his silent shadow?Escape the noisy footsteps of others?

Prayin one of your pockets hides a door.


65


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