Category Archives: Poems Beyond Their Words

contains poetry inclined toward mysticism, gnosticism, Irfan, Tasawwuf, Sufism

Writer in the Artist Studio – This and That

(a story about entering the studios of Nasser Ovissi – dictated on the drive home) Oh, this sweet exhaustion. This weariness from wanting, this fire that burns towards having. I woke this morning and went to visit the Artist. The … Continue reading

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the word series

1. Words are the rusted iron locks on the chest of meaning within the chest is the hidden key to them all Silence is the locksmith. (#25wtT) 2. A swelling tongue guides his breath past parted lips soft words adrift … Continue reading

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Wild Inside

Languid lips, creased in soft repose sealing secrets there enclosed that only a kiss reveals. Blooms ponceau, One might imagine worlds beyond where the corners curl of a mouth that’s closed and wild inside. tis nothing if not heardEmailTwitterFacebook0PrintGoogle

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Diya

I stared into the high noon sun, until I became blinded by all but its memory. Then I stared into that memorial as if it were my only one, until not even the darkness could be seen. When I could … Continue reading

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Centerpiece of Meaning

What is knowledge if it is not shining down upon her face Who is to know, who is to know To the canvas from which color leaps she is the gesso, I imagine it so I imagine it so What … Continue reading

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We Danced in Circles

Prelude from that volcano Red hot words flew up from the caldera and with applause fell in confetti flakes of ash. Drifting through the metal haze, softening down in dirty velvet waves of sheets to become pressed and rubbed and … Continue reading

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One Stays, One Leaves

So long as we hide within the shadows in the fields behind our own abode, the heart is never empty, the heart is never full. And so all wayfarers eventually leave seeking their own light thereby missing the flame that could have been yours, and in … Continue reading

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Fire within the Moth

There must be a bit of the fire within the moth, to be so ecstatically drawn to the flame; even the candle light itself dances ecstatically, nourished by the scent of singed wings. tis nothing if not heardEmailTwitterFacebook0PrintGoogle

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Never Ending Spells of Bliss

Just beneath the expressive notes of the consoling ney (reed flute) I hear the current of His breath carrying the burden of the neyzen’s lamenting song. Such intimacy between the lips of man and the kiss of his Creator reveals … Continue reading

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Dervishes in a Raindrop

I am a raindrop cradled in the center of a hyacinth sprout. My silhouette shown In its verdant cup. There below the azure, above the green leaf’s blade, stands a circle of dervishes in reflected shades of gray. A silent gathering … Continue reading

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