Ghazal #115 from Ghazals For The Friend

We shout as cracks widen under our feet;
Shards of glass fly along the broken street.

All the many promises we promised to keep,
Pile into one another in a bloody heap.

Eyes wide shut stare at the falling ground;
Feet climb the air and earth can’t be found.

All this a premonition of the anxious mind:
We are transfixed by fears that undermine.

Death is no small disaster to our ego-fiction,
When each frame suffers review and elision.

The I-maker is our brilliant original sin;
Every subsequent lie is second-rate spin.

Darvish can’t improve on his enormous falsity:
Too many fears fracture love’s sweet unity.






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