Darvish Khan Writes

of all the planets that bless the poet’s high art,
mercury and bright venus play the greater part.

the first, master wit who does cleverly inscribe
what the sky’s musician will sing with coolest jive.

of course, without the moon, where is sensibility-
and without jupiter, what good the best ability?

mars is often enough little more than passion;
do not ask saturn anything at all about fashion:

he drags his foul but across the black hole of sky,
as he sits on your head, and teases you to die.

what about the sun? all light and joy, even bliss
depend on courting his brilliant, radiant kiss!

darvish, all that wanders the blue sky divine
is held in your crystal glass of bright ruby wine!

Print Friendly

When were we ever drunk but with his lovely name-
our sobriety only deserves your righteous blame.

We are indignant with all the usual double thinks-
we remain true to our singular bootleg drink.

We know about prohibition, how it made Big Fist rich,
and how priest hoarded spirit, to make church a bitch.

Uncork the bottle, and our wet lips will proclaim,
there is no god but god, and drink is his real name!

We have nothing more to say to the good preacher,
he also is one of god’s dear and dumb creatures.

Let him growl on and on about bad behavior,
the bottle’s gurgling speech is our blessed savior.

Darvish was partying all day and far into the night;
by dawn, his flushed face was radiant with pure light.

Print Friendly

dawn broke my sleep with the light of your rosy cheeks,
and i forgot the recurring dream of the past some weeks

of your darkening face, violent wind and lashing hair
that bless my life way, way beyond all that is fair.

early light and birdsong breath led the day, the sun
climbed the sky, took a break, then eased into a run.

evening was lit with a cool spilling charm, and you
and i danced until weary feet were washed by dew.

by the breaking light we could see an angry sky,
and darvish wisely laughed, the weather always lies!

Print Friendly

we know about your curls that wrap around the throat,
and choke off every kind of sound that might denote

displeasure with your wish and will. how kind of your
beauty to be so full of self-regard, we note.

but we don’t complain. the pain is nothing, really.
we’re just insane, to be in the same bloody boat!

i have no idea what to say– i do love you,
but your beauty is terrible- i have to shout!

look, i have an idea, let’s start all over-
before this ends badly, and your vanity smites

me completely. please hand me the scissors:
darvish will trim your curls from his tight, tight-er throat!

Print Friendly

we have learned to lie about the truth of your smile,
we know all too well all about your lovely wiles.

let those who lounge in tanning salons pretend
to love the sun- in comfortable denial.

we do not believe a better fate for ourselves,
but to flourish by the grace of your holy bile.

thank god, mercy is chief among your many names-
cool rain falls at last on cruel after cruel hot mile.

we remember you and your cool smile tonight,
as we await tomorrow’s promised wedding-aisle.

darvish blows a kiss to the wind, but softly thinks
she’s a no-show for sure, i can see her sweet smile!

Print Friendly

i can’t believe we know your most beautiful name,
but are buried in dark mind, with such deep blame.

release your arrows of light to reveal yourself,
and burn this bitch of a night in your holy game.

we deserve to die, but not like this- big asses
braying in the dark our petty precious shame

of not knowing who we are, and not desiring
to play the sweet music of your sweet lovely name.

god help us hate the vanity of our sick lies,
and help us despise all but love for love supreme.

we need your help to turn us toward your holy light,
and we need your help to burn in its burning flame.

darvish cries out from the black depths of his dark mind-
we have no hope of you, master of brilliant fame!

Print Friendly

My life drove like a junker stalling on empty,
Until i met you, rising through the centuries.

What matter then, my lurching, desperate habit,
And strange muttering so full of exhausted pleas

When I met the silence that brought me to a halt,
And mind surrendered its charades on fallen knee.

But what now, with the belly gnaw and gastric blues
Blessing day and night, and billy can for foul tea?

We forgot so much- like how to wipe the dirty ass
Clean without paper, and keep the mind pure and free.

It’s a long way back, to where we came from, and now
The sky is full of pain, like the black, moaning sea.

Darvish, learn to walk with style, all over again:
Learn to walk with the spirit of the redwood tree!

Print Friendly