The Accusation

When the game is up,
-I know it, says the Accused, one has to go willingly.
-I wish to change my plea, where is the hyssop, bring it to me.

When the ostrokon is cast,
But in the onionskins of guilt and innocence, deepest kernel, toughest
geist,
He is and remains innocent,

When it's vox clamantis in deserto, or 'it moves even so...',
They may castigate to their heart's content, the outer shell,
But never could he agree, never could capitulate, the very hell he is.

When the Judge snuffs the candle,
Showing that out of the Guilty the light of God is gone, and none
should deduce to see it.
And tolls the bell three times, as for one who died.
And closes the book on the Guilty.

When even Franz K., that perplexed enemy of the people, it is,
Who at every stage protests his affront to the full,
But he knows, really, he knows,
From his very own mouth,
-It was the anniversary of my birthday.

Prayer

Silence,
listen to
seeds. Crack,
unzip your lip.
Speak to the rock.
Expect water to
breath. Awe.
Salt.

The well is unfolding words,
a manifest of unveiled truth,
sweet honey in the rock.

My ears listened to the scent of salt,
it dripped in my eyes as I wept
when I heard the seed of the sound.

Sweet honey in the rock,
a manifest of unveiled truth.
The well is unfolding word’s

salt.
Breath awe!
Expect water to
speak to the rock.
Unzip your lip.
Seeds crack.
Listen to
silence.

On Pickthall's Al-Koran

As chatoyant.

As a black rock from out of cobalt sky. Sky root. Cling at. Submit to. Past any knowing or known unknowns. Torn from Allah-Void. Burning. Shifting colors. Wall.

Human limit. Words to mull, not to find a final thought in. A hot wind from past days now dark. Its dry aroma. Its nomad tasks.

Airt. Gnarlyhood. Light.

Cubi XVII.

Lift a shard.

Something to count on

Not looking hope creeps in, but hope does not stay long.
Hope, the false friend, gets you out but faith keeps you from going back.