ghazalmanac 4z4

the wind is saying something, always with an H. could be
“who,” how,” or “why”; until it’s done we can’t be sure.


he moves as if to show her he’s become a man: a son
with his mother. stamp from the roll, thumb on envelope


in a dream the Mariner weaves
a tale of looking without love


“ice cream is like truth,” the fork said to the spoon
while the bent knife looked on


NAVLES: hand grenade in the potatoes, where am i from?
they think from France, blew it up in a park all gone