WEBVTT

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So the idea for this
sequence of ghazals

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is that the first six will
follow the form as closely

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and true to form as
possible, the second six

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will decay in some way,
and the third six will--

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I don't know.

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I haven't gotten there yet.

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But the first two I
think followed form,

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and the third one is
sort of in between.

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"April migraines and turns
Sunward, faces to scale.

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Late morning Sun, a
radioactive pollen

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dusting my father's
palate of a morning Sun.

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In a closet among
ill-fit clothes,

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I wanted to nurture
a deity, feed

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it axes warmed under
my praying knees,

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play games of enemies
sworn to the Sun.

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A roommate's girl shudders
against a table where we shoot

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stick in the shadowed alley
after we paw, lick, parts

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gnashed by [? bronze suns ?].

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Don't forget the ashes of
Tuesday's dead polluting

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winds and rivers.

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our cities, scavenge the
Earth with a larval tenderness

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of a pre-agrarian Sun.

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Were you thinking It was
your life up for decision?"

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Oh.

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"Were you thinking
it was your life

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up for discussion, picket fence
an illusory ginormous wall?

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Aren't some jobs suited
for unavailing sons.

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Often the fighter or cowardly
one, by careful knocking,

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arrives sleepless.

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If life is indeed
behind the door,

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it's long hackles shake
its fleas into the Sun."

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