“Maybe this is a metaphor for overbearing love
That wants to be seen
That wants to give until it’s dead- even
When it’s dead.
Or maybe I’m just a poet”

“The Nile comes to me in a dream, shouting, Who betrays you? I reply, Even you
wash the soil from our hills. You don’t get to ask me that.”

They, as if never knowing hunger
Tied a man
Marched him to a knife
Under God’s blue sky.

“Dear God,
Won’t you whisper to the man on the pulpit
that old things have passed away?”

The fact is: I have read the script. It says: God speaks to me
in a strange dialect; it says I would know when God’s hands graze my body.

But today I have no words to make myself feel something else other than loneliness so I am sitting on the carpet-less floor to let the cold have me, pinch feeling into my body if only to let my mouth have words for it alone.

“Men have been in the business
of naming things since Adam named
the animals in the garden. We are men,
and on this basis alone our lord agrees
with whatever we christen a thing.”

“With weeping candles across world capitals where
The sole of their dreams will never again touch, let
The name of each and everyone of them without
Body or face be written that they may find peace”

“On this side of the city, /
I am the lamb /
I am the sacrifice.”

“the vines relentless in their unraveling / over
the brick that want only to be bare / one man’s beauty becomes another’s brutal architecture”