the rapid ghazal

I have this sense of deep
winter embedded

in doubt engendering a hollow
spring    this is

the knife of knowing, the easy
east struggling

the molars of autumn trying
to figure out

whether it is language or hearsay.

the rapid ghazal slows down
as humid voices

raze    the nozzle of humility
piques    the word

of wonder nuzzles    we slough
off the ghazal

and it beats    we slow down
as humid voices