Today I turned. Today I turned and saw beyond the tapestry, beyond the glass, beyond the lattice, the bee, the bright leaves. I saw the rising smokes of Baghdad, New York, Dresden, Portland, Jericho, and Thebes.

“Please do not touch”, Or on labels where a child’s game lie paralysed in description, Where people come and gawk and say, this is spectacular!

I hear a frog croak in the dishwasher I wash a single memory down the sink look up above the toilet bowl  a painting of a housefly eating the head of another housefly

Call me Śiva, Call me Hijra, Call me Lucifer, Circe, Crow, Call me Ishmael, Hecate, Kālī, Call me Coyote, Loki, Toad.

Winter sound is blue and bell sudden. Shadows are knife blades. I was her nurse, butt wiper and cook. Still strong enough to hurl a bowl

it slipped then through the cracks lost on the highway of a life lived in layers of wanderings.

Yes, let justice be for twig and flea, ankle and feather in deep heather. A thousand tongues will praise me and none will beg my pardon, my inmates there all to declare I am a caring warden.

The nawab clings to cinders, yearning for yesterday His paan performs a final somersault on the tongue.

There lies the great poet In the hamlet of Haiku Influenced by seeds My fellow wandering soul Content with the heart

i think i am owed secrets as though i’m one of a few earned caretakers or a suzerain fate has granted all sorts of trespasses but maybe it’s just like what my ex wife said before i packed the boxes i am only fascinated by what won’t let me in

The road might have taken us anywhere     but instead we are surrounded by birds     white birds black birds     all are forced out of metal     with gyroscopes and grease

And yes, Schrodinger’s cat has crapped all over the lawn. Street people are panhandling planets like food stamps, and all the fundamental particles of the universe are

I got moon boots, you got moon boots. We all scream for ice cream but to no avail – our prayers are answered at no better than the rate of chance. There's no glissando without stops and starts. Nor parallel nor intersecting, one guideline has teeth and one has dreams.

realizing it also has a pocket, wondering what a ten month old would keep inside. gazing at the blueberry stain as I vacantly rub a wet Q tip over it, again.

We are this and this and this,  cinders flaming like lighthouses enveloped by fog,  someone tripping in the yard,  someone stumbling through the door. 

I think slowly, with the deliberation I need to follow through sounds, not drop silverware.When I open my mouth, the oh sound doesn't ah, remains round.

The clear blue of the ocean deep swam in. And then out. The salt dissolved the knots in my stomach.

ah,  here is the robin      (Just) here, the wren      (Just) the sharp tongue of the irises      (Just) the velvet bud      (Just) Light and Earth      (Just)

For finding yourself in collisions You did not choose. You could not avoid. The Flesh around the cleaved frame

Holy darvish, Shams-i-perende, Kāmil-i-Tabrīzī — I had not known then that I had been looking for you.

Shine a light through my gullet doc and you'll see intestine walls lined with fishes that I drew as a kid. Fishes, yeah. Plural. Tried to warn them about war, doc. Nobody listened.