Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Crooked for you for the straightest
way leaves my sun lacked I lay

blind for my eyes won't let their lids
close upon your face growing

dark and everywhere as one
lunatic said to another lunatic

Sunday, November 20, 2011


Put your mouth on this inch
of wool while I vanish, for the word

is brief, and leaves
nothing but an itch behind.

Find your free hand to that part
of throat that beats and repeat

after me: the heart is a bass
and the blood a hook that pulls

it out; la la. We feel homesick
in our skin; repulsed, as if

there stood some direction towards
which we could go instead.  Al qalb

yaqlab. Dear Lord, we itch, like well
tailored animals, for an inner

cilia, and vomit wool
-strokedly and ecstatic. 

As al Khidr said to Musa: cough it up. 

As a Sufi said to a poet: unlearn your thirst, for it doesn't lead to water.

As an Akhmed said to an Ahmed: understand your tongue is mine.

As the inspect said to the suspect: unclothe your rhetoric & let the sorest parts of our language touch. 

As the Hallaj said the executioner: one demand -- moths.

As the flame said to Allah: wondrous that something you wrote could find itself on someone's skin.

As Allah said to himself: unify. Thus all was all & wahid was wahid.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Sufi proof:

If you let your Anglish play sequences of syllables, it will land upon something unutterable. There, the names of Godallah are endlessly repeated and profaned without protest; since these words are anglicized, they can't say anything. In the meekness of these stupid words, the Lord is gratified and good. But within the length of this sentence lies the obscene spell that can make Him show himself. Recitation of the script is limited to one who doesn't choke: a lungless, throatless body some say is a Sufi and others say a fish.
Iblis didn't bend an inch for that
which wasn't his One; he said uh uh,

so his Love gave him what he brought
upon himself, standing up.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

If you disfigure the outer Sufi, the inner one is freed; a shattered mirror's image severed from the body it reflects.

What a shattered mirror reflects is violence; the body severed from itself. Ya akhi, the surface shatters depth like an air. 

When you lost depth, you were left with surface. When you lost surface, you were left with sound. God concentrates himself upon all particles, until they play; the Sufi's ear is filled with singing.

Do you hear me?

I hear the fire that you carry like a rhyme. It speaks on your behalf.

I've marred my outside & become a mirror. I've burned myself in the name of an out, now what?

Concentrate upon fire until the ghosts of flames dance on your skin. Explode, like a compressed atom of God.