Sunday, May 6, 2007

:from munirah

we write this to you from the desert
the letters forming: light on sand
while you wait for
the air conditioner to turn off
inside your cape cod cottage:
new england in june and the electricity costs so much

each grain of sand here is a moment of infinity
each one calls out to you
in the way only infinity can
while you turn up the tv
in order to avoid that revelation

you say, the desert is a liar:
illusions of water, the blurring of distinctions; it will kill if it can
i will stay on solid ground, in the reality of
shopping malls, dairy queens and the marketing machine
but we say, the sun is the only truth
and every grain of sand, its prism



Maliha said...


I love that last line! and every grain of sand, it's prism.

Sigh..i miss my poetry muse.

Lawrence of Arabia said...

thank you very much.

it is true isnt it? sometime writing is like torture, every key stroke is like someone decided to jab bamboo under your finger nails. there were times when i was writing my dissertation that i sat down at the computer and literally felt nauseous.

and then there is that muse...and somehow, on some days...things just flow.

MiMi said...

Impressive words,, keep up writing ;)

and I like the painting :)

Anoc said...

hello. fascinated by your writing, but PLEASE can you make the font larger? you make my eyes water - for the wrong reason. :)

Anoc said...

Thank you.