My mirror hangs stoic,
as silently it absorbs all it could with unbiased eyes.
All it receives under the day's sun.
Yet it never stores...
Not memories recent...
Not images perceived from the distant past...
exists in the now.
It gives me only the present.
It reveals unequivocally the ground
upon which I stand.
It divulges only in the brutal and honest truth.
The kind of truth photographs could never tell.
Today it showed me what I've been seeing
with eyes half shut.
It showed me that,
I am older now.
Older than I was yesterday.
Older than I was a second ago.
Every wrinkle told a silent tale.
Every tale left quiet scars.
Every scar sang requiems of past mistakes.
And every mistake costed me my youth.
My mirror showed me that...
I'm older now because I've learnt much.
And I'm learning much more
because I'm older now.
for Ashraf Fayadh
Once flowers blossomed in the text,
Words were like petals on water,
Walls whispered in Andalusian script
And paradise on earth was whole.
So if a poet is to be executed
Language grows a stronger root.
The channel of living water
Runs the length of the palace.
So if a poet is to be executed
The sacrifice of one magnifies
The charity of the harvest
For those who are hungry to learn.
The example of the faithful
Who waste a seed of mercy
Is to lose the seven stalks
From which a hundred grains fall.
Eos woke an Argus-eyed iris
to start this day in birdsong
that pierced a sleeping silence
then sang all risings long
Square window panes did brighten
with light's momentum strong
a symphony, wind heightened
in poltergeist chimes which hung
As cool breeze entered gently
to kiss on petal's lip
while wings buzzed intently
took drink of morning's dip
In jumbled greens and pigments
this garden's watercolors glow
in natural dance of prisms
sharp thorns yield up to rose
It's been awhile since pregnant poem
as there was no one here to wear it
just two plane black and white fantasy
vaporized with day's chores and work
Now this is that in counterpoise
in arms embrace and kissing peaks
where clouds blush in morning sun
to wake upon your dawn
Hands that would cradle this heart
know its beat and volcanic weeping
holding even unto bone its love
there keeping pillow-lava whispers near
Then toss regret most play a fool
since evening's close behind
It takes a lifetime rise to heights
exquisitely to climb a starry sky
There moon light visions linger
as though internal fires pour
molten eyes have pierced this soul
to claim its flame and core
Early morning echoes on stone floors
cash registers yawn and buzz awake
little disturbs tease these tranquil halls
patrolled by para-para-para-pros
Suspended animation bodies sit
in central island mounds
men, slack jaws rest on their chest
white haired ladies chitter news bits
a mental escapee swings his arms
in tune to a different tympani playing
over a public address system rarely used
One does not cross River Styx here but floats
along shores of retail hell and temptation
for the latest Nike God re-vaulting shoe ware
a thirty-nine, ninety-nine, keyboard-pad man,
with a jihadist accent, offers an island cart deal
In these glass lined backwaters, reefs of corpulent people
wheezing on overstuffed, automated, black sofa chairs
are reluctant to feed them money and have them shake
cast away cares and calorie or two of fat
Generation Step-off lingers here in isolation
waiting for a grim taco bell to sound retreat
munching on day old headcheese reheats
and star lost, deep space, coffee blackness
Fond memories of fried chicken picnics,
potato salads, and laughter behind old oak trees
seem so distant;
-dinosaurs roam Italian table cloths
pouncing on red and white squares, their prey-
only to find metallic tables easily fabuloso wiped
of small mammal imprints and episodic crumbs
Inserted into mainstream hours of shopping
mania playing out each dissonant chord
fleeing is optional but often delayed gratification
as we genuflect at merchant alters of absolution
offering plastic credit or debit penance
for our consumer sins and buyer's remorse
Help us on this day of returns
and keep us on a righteous path, in line,
lead us not into temptation isles
and deliver us our packages
as we deliver blows to those that trespass
against our holidaze sprees and vortex
of endless walking with no green exit signs
or vested angels with ear-bud forgiveness
She would put on her makeup
in the dining room alcove
with the picture window
We always joked that
it brought in just enough
sunlight to render useless
the birth control pills
she kept in her makeup case
The pills were not effective
and the makeup did not withstand the tears