In this game of love don’t think that you can take a trick.
To begin with, the cards are stacked, then the play is slick.
Click here to read the full ghazal #68 and commentary.
These are mature men gathered round the camp-fire tonight,
Men with discriminating palates, trained ears and love-sight.
Click here to read the full ghazal #69 and commentary.
In this drought all has died except our crop of griefs;
And it flourishes, each day putting on new leaves.
Click here to read the full ghazal #70 and commentary.
Now am I a resident in the street called Love Street,
That river of dust which flows around the Beloved’s feet.
Click here to read the full ghazal #71 and commentary.
When, one day, the Master looked at me sideways I saw
Compassion and mercy and forgiveness and—oh, so much more.
Click here to read the full ghazal #72 and commentary.
In Love Street there is the Church of the Sacred Vine
Where the master of ceremonies pours out wine,
Click here to read the full ghazal #73 and commentary.
Misfortune is the ingredient in my food that nourishes;
And grief is the water round my song’s root, and my song flourishes.
Click here to read the full ghazal #74 and commentary.
I would never have troubled about love if love had not troubled me;
I would never be on this raft if I had not been chucked into the sea.
Click here to read the full ghazal #75 and commentary.
I suppose my gallows-humor will not be much relished
By those who like the bare facts of love clothed and embellished.
Click here to read the full ghazal #76 and commentary.