Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into an artifice of eternity.

Friday, July 31, 2015

The Thought-Desert ~ II

~ For J. H. ~

Their Sidr honey did not sweeten your journey,
And you did not find the prisms of your dreams –
Instead, the incense-scented sands stormed
And the air teemed with razor grains and shards.

Mad birds screech in the palm groves
And desert falcons scout the billowing dust,
Lizards scamper along the dunes and palace walls,
And a billion ants march to the drum of the sun.

You did not find mercy in their plaintive chants:
The fabrics rolled and creased like tides at the moon –
A chorus of exultation subsided then died, and psalms
Were parcelled out between the sun and the moon.

All robed in black and white, the soul is a magpie
In a cuckoo’s nest – seduction stole the heart
With a parched glance, but the bleeding eyes
Saw what ministrations its supplications wrought.

You did not trust the earth beneath your feet,
Instead the clouds jostled you to this doorway –
‘Yes’ was the key but ‘No’ the lock it could not open:
Words are only words without a threshold and a hinge.

Now evenings settle down like crude, days ooze days,
And drowsy eyes rest in the socket of the crescent moon.
Winds are to the east, but you’ve washed away the east
In that oasis where djinns die and the lote tree blooms.


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