He Was My Friend
My friend was afflicted.
In his mind
books flowered like moonbeams
conversing with emptiness.
Saffron colored perception.
the disorders of modern life
creating in him a succession of
He was the light of
sights and insights
He was the artful blossoming
He was fed up with the fools
living in the street of short memory.
He was fed up with the hostility
of every liar.
critical of the subservience of
Intizar to Meratth,
critical of the savageness and
overindulgence of many resurrections,
critical of the madness of
the jinn of harm,
critical of the personalities of
the towns facing censure.
There was only the smoke of the extinguished lamps
There were only the thunder of a wasted epoch
There were only the cries of a ruined caravan.