Darwish & I

١.
when playing by rules of fire rue
the gods

to make you another stone spin out
of orbit;

this god whisper, this animal skin
touch of

ribald, ring; the true-stone spurns
an other

“Just being there, by yourself, you become a tribe.
I sang only to balance the rests between notes of the doves’ mourning, not to
interpret what God says to Man.
I am not a prophet claiming revelation, or that my abyss reaches heaven.”
– Mahmoud Darwish

٢.
It is this tome of poetry
that spells out your name

with the veracity of an old
rhyme, the thrust of vessels

of blood bold enough to stare
you in the eye and say, “this

here heart of meekness is ash
now, and it is here that I will

leave.”

Seeking an impossible resonance; the
improbability lends

Credence to flow; seeking an irreverent
wobble that steadies

Each pebble, each stun of faith –
seeking the individual

Common, communing with whatever is
there: root, mist or

missed – anything will do for now.

“One day, I will be a bird, and will snatch my being out of my nothingness.

One day, I will be a poet. Water will depend on my vision.
My language will be a metaphor for metaphor.”
– Mahmoud Darwish

٣.
You celebrate the flower but
desist little

In calling out biology that
stems the stamen

From classifying; you talk of
hive, bark, sap

But the sky is absent so the
view is scrap

“The echo, utterly tired of my incurable hope
and of arguments about the nature of beauty, asks:
Who is next after Babylon?
Every time the road to heaven becomes clear,
every time the unknown discloses a certain end,
the song shatters, prayers decay and turn into prose.”
– Mahmoud Darwish

٤.
When you beguile, you: i) tress
Pass, ii) dev

Our the grated unnecessary, iii)
Believe
in the

Promissory temptations of grass,
iv) Lie distempered,

Calling in the aged whispers to
Fly as if imagination

Has left its abode, and v) grow
Each tail of ague

In proportion to its volition,
The thud of its anvil.

“What wind brought you here?
Tel l me the name of your wound,
and I will know the roads where we might twice become lost.”
– Mahmoud Darwish

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