“The first to tell of his second / coming is last to know, once thrown from his / whore’s, he rides her spotlight’s paleness / until the moon…”

“Never ask a man to understand / what before he simply believed, to understand / the enigmas of all sphinxes is / to increase unceasingly, faith is confidence…”

“A void and a plenitude, an arrow // and a wound, digging the sound of / that tombstone’s echo which becomes for me / a touchstone, refuge for…”

“Your house is a corpse whose reward is to be burned / to ashes, an abandoned body / a demanding temple reanimated and / now inhabits, an altar…”

“From every truth falls a crater, / I speak of love I’ve experienced, / not love that I’m seeking, no, braiding // the rose of verse with thorns…”

“Rags of breath, I am my father’s house // with oracles for eyes, serpents of / sulphur tongue their way through minefields of / æthyr memories bury themselves…”

“Give me a poet who writes / with his balls, like Baudelaire / or Bukowski, a rowdy / provocateur ignoring // warnings against being so / abhorrent, shouting over / an…”

“In the emptiness of a densely- / populated place, where Arabic / is the language of sex—a glass-break / of heartache, this is pain blown out in- / to the…”

“Beneath the aching vanity of / seven sullen ages, under the / swollen canopy of what is yet / to come and not love, our fearless but / no…”

“By 2020 will my hindsight / finally operate with perfect / clarity, putting behind me a // decade that’s felt like a century? / Filling me with emptiness, grief’s…”