Did we run out of things or just a name for you?
Above us the sun doubles its acclaim for you.


Negative sun or negative shade pulled from the ground …

and the image brought in one ornate frame for you.


At my every word they cry, “Who the hell are you?”
What would you reply if they thus sent Fame to you?


What a noise the sentences make writing themselves—
Here’s every word that we used as a flame for you.


I remember your wine in my springtime of sorrow.
Now the world lies broken. Is it the same for you?


Because in this dialect the eyes are crossed or quartz,
A STATUE A RAZOR A FACT I exclaim for you?











A Ghazal for Michael Palmer


The birthplace of written language is bombed to nothing.

How neat, dear America, is this game for you?


The angel of history wears all expressions at once.
What will you do? Look, his wings are aflame for you.


On a visitor’s card words are arranged in a row—
Who was I? Who am I? I’ve brought my claim. For you.


A pity I don’t know if you’re guilty of something!
I would-without your knowing-take the blame for you.


Still for many days the rain will continue to fall …
A voice will say, “God, I’m burning in shame for You.”


Something like smoke rises from the snuffed-out distance …
Whose house did that fire find which once came for you?


God’s dropped the scales. Whose wings will cover me, Michael?
Don’t pronounce the sentence Shahid overcame for you.