The rains have come and the earth has put out fresh tender shoots;
But our drought continues and gnaws at our slender roots.
Click here to read the full ghazal #55 and commentary.
From the bush of our burning grief comes the voice of your singing,
But from the ash of our hearts never a phoenix is springing.
Click here to read the full ghazal #56 and commentary.
I wish every man the love of a woman beautiful and tender.
Unless he has first died on her breast, he can never fully surrender.
Click here to read the full ghazal #57 and commentary.
Nearly fourteen hundred years since the orchard of desire was inspected—
During which time the trees have flourished as though hormone-injected.
Click here to read the full ghazal #58 and commentary.
The men of God are kingly men indeed—
Scions of light, not begotten from seed.
Click here to read the full ghazal #59 and commentary.
Today I looked in the mirror, and saw a dead man’s eyes.
A mirror when questioned always faithfully replies.
Click here to read the full ghazal #60 and commentary.
Nowadays men are concerned with structures of bones,
The bones of machines and buildings—never with thrones.
Click here to read the full ghazal #61 and commentary.
Dawn is a friend who comes to rouse the lover from grief,
And enemy, for from his pain he wants no relief.
Click here to read the full ghazal #62 and commentary.
Our tears are a fountain of self-deception, a waterfall
Between us and the Reception being held in the Diamond Hall.
Click here to read the full ghazal #63 and commentary.