What does this guy have that we don't?
- He asked
Well...
This fisher of my dreams taps dawn on its broad shoulders
To cast first light on the waters and draw out my somnolence
From the fathoms in nets that nest hungry altricial dreams
Bringing them into the open air to be fed life and feed life
I am infinity pool meet horizon in his emergent glassy visions
A granny smith, ripe and heavy, in his perpetually dilating eye
Unblinking, this threshold place holds the edges of my becoming
Blinking, the marble eye gives way to Michelangelo's David
To be near him, is to have joy boomerang between my vital organs
Oh my heart, quickening with every tentative dexterous touch
Oh my breath, straining to catch the catch in my throat, his name
Oh my soul, to purify with a flame-hot visceral blinding ecstasy
Oh my regeneration, a liver enlivening a lover with viscous liquids
Oh my mind, trains trained on him as destination and journey....
This reader of my thumbed biography titled Yahya, the one who lives
Reaches out to my pages five times in the night like nocturnal salat
Harasses my skin and reality for spoilers, I moan Allahu Akbar
Summons copses of olive trees so this page-turner has a strong spine
He bends me in lordosis, I don't break, iSleepover sa ka Sjava
And in turning a page, turns to face my solstice like a marigold
My heart, a catherine wheel, turning to his untainted goodness
The needle of the compass, points true and north, what height
Prick my finger on a spindle of your lips, this beauty could sleep
When love bites kisses, to awake, to induce, to awake, to induce
These electromagnetic forces that have dogs going in circles
Has this innocent puppy love growing in intimate cycles, a-turning
This courageous man who has crawled out of charnel houses
Wearing gleaming hope like a diamond on his burnt sleeves
Inscribing words of encouragement for the hearts of others
With the soot covering the bulk of his lithe scarred body
This ardent everyman believer who has been flayed alive
By the incendiary demons has an 800 thread count touch
Softening my core to luxurious moving molten magma
Splutter and sputter ecstatically into something Vesuvian
Something that can never be forgotten, quieting cities
A koranic divine wrath has made a mountain of you
This simple love is both archaeological and anachronic
Beyond the understanding of modern stone-hearted men
