Ghazal for Rumi

"Ray Incantation"

Caroline Gerardo Copyright April 22, 2011

GHAZAL for Rumi Love Poems On Rain

Photograph underwater, a Bay of Biscayne.

Your email was intended to cause me pain.
The weapon is a shut off campaign.
It is prettier to lock memory in chain.

Write a new label, University at Duquesne.

Millions of “I” words, an important domain.

An assault upon my cheek is a coup de main.

 

Salt water flows equaling my cystic veins.

The drama about moving much like a train
was blown out of proportion all over terrain
 not trying will be the error until you wane.

Memories of you, great pharoah, I retain.
Come clean without fear of the rain.
Despite the typhoon, I ask, maintain.

Awakening

photograph Caroline Gerardo Copyright 2011

MISSING

Caroline Gerardo Copyright March 2011

Pain exists on my lips. I do not feel it. The upper is not cracked or bleeding, the scar tissue is from the grief. I cut my finger with new Fiscar gardening shears. I see bones. I stitched it myself.

How long must I pull thorns from my mouth? Is there a measurement when I will no longer miss you?

Did my father die yesterday or in the Devonian Period? In dreams, he is a young man telling me penance things.

I awaken. I write down the words on a yellow stained notepad next to my bed. After little rest, in the morning I cannot read the language. The words are in ancient Panjabi, not Farsi. The handwriting is poor from not wearing glasses. I drink clouded moonlight. What did he say?

Tasbeeh phiree par dil ni phiriya Kee lena tasbeeh phair kay Hu- Throw the rosary beads away if your prayers remain unanswered. When the cross on my necklace meets the clasp I recite the whole rosary. This happens several times a day. It is beginning to suck up my waking hours.

I started sleeping with the blinds wide open. This allows peeking reflections off the swimming pool. A snow goose hit the mirrored surface. No, it was an owl. He has a pearly wingspan. A soothsayer who purposely hides the truth from those he loves.

I left the door open to the surf. I wake up at two and three and four. I look over on your pillow. You are not there with your hands on your chest. I believe I prefer the earlier trick of just going back to dream and seeing you in my head wound.

Awakening: A Sufi Experience

Valentine Gorilla ?

"We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and -- in spite of True Romance magazines -- we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely -- at least, not all the time -- but essentially, and finally, alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important, and I don't see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness."


— Hunter S. Thompson (The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman 1955-67)

Valentine’s Day is screaming at me. Donny Hall I wonder what you look like twenty some years later after undergraduate college? The local florist The Flower Girl has a tent set up in the parking lot to be ready for the big Monday. I feel like they are peddling drugs this year. I am not bitter, just missing… I send Valentines cards and packages. It’s the gorilla in the corner singing a Sade song.
I wish it was Tuesday. I hiked four hours yesterday in the canyon. Wildflowers are starting. I will upload my happy picks after I get another 3000 words down on the book. Wishing all a happy your own day.

amazon linkP.S. Toxic Assets shows on Amazon as paperback and some ebookstores, more to follow after Valentines Day…

Touching the Past

I feel pain on my lips. The upper is not cracked or bleeding, the scar tissue is from the grief.

How long must I pull thorns from my fingers? Is there a measurement when I stop

missing you?

Did my father die yesterday or in the Devonian Period? In dreams, he is a young man foretelling me things.

I awaken. I write down a yellow stained notepad next to my bed. After little sleep in the morning I can’t read the language. The handwriting is poor from no glasses and clouded moonlight.

I started sleeping with the blinds wide open. This allows peeking reflections off the swimming pool or the surf. When I wake up at two and three and four I look over on your pillow and you are not there with your hands on your chest. I prefer my earlier magic trick of just going back to sleep and seeing you in my head wound.

Touching the Sky

Photograph: Touching the Sky

Caroline Gerardo ©copyright 2011