RAMADAN SONNETS, not always a spiritual meditation, nor often even what should be felt and achieved in the fast (the poems are striving for some reality of feeling and experience), these poems are an imaginatively inspired record of the month, its small epiphanies and grim endurances, heading out from its physical constraints to contemplate a vast panorama, or focusing in on particulars, those embryos of explosive meaning, to evoke the blessed month of Ramadan's intertwining flavors of asceticism and sensual gratitude, its palatable and palpable Light.

This is a series of imagistic and light-drenched poems written each day or night of the fast of Ramadan, 2011, here presented in consecutive order as they came. Their purpose: to get nearer...

I'm not sure why anyone would want to undergo spiritual training, the rigors and difficulties of a path of spiritual discipline, except to reach a state of enlightenment. And I'm not sure that the state of enlightenment would be one of grim survival, or a harsh stoicism after all the exhausting rigors, but rather a joyful and constant perception of the simultaneous multifariousness of all things, and the single Divine core around which we all endlessly circulate'¦ The Perfect Orchestra of the Real. This world's natural light is supernatural light, and even when shining on the discordant, radiates calm, back to the central chord, the tonally harmonic resolution that laps throughout the universe as well as through us, end to end, and back again.

Try to describe light and it's hopeless/ Nothing can quite catch in words luminous nothingness/ Hold something up in light and it's revealed in it say a/ miniature Easter Island head now brought out in its/ full strangeness by the surrounding illumination/ But how can you hold up something like light in light and hope to achieve/ the thing the flash the flat surrounding splashy airiness of brightness/ in whose beneficence everything/ including us is revealed?...

This may be my most personal book, as I wrote this collection of poems as an attempt to definitively and honestly connect in a deep way with Farid, my teenage stepson. Ah, since you're not my/ natural son, you can be my/ supernatural son! No actual genes of mine// swim in your blood, your flesh doesn't/ resemble mine, though since I've been your/ dad from the time you were two, we now have a/ definite// family resemblance, leaping over/ genetic fact like some sleek green grasshopper of/ supernatural light.

This poem was suggested in a flash by a paragraph in Michael McClure's book, "Scratching the Beat Surface," in which he quotes Ernst Haekel in the words used here as an epigraph, "Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny." He goes on to say, in explanation, "Haekel meant that the individual, in his growth from meeting of sperm and ovum at conception, lives out, in fetus, the growth and evolution of his tribe; that first he is an amoeba, then a colonial organism, then an invertebrate, then a lancet, then a fish, until at last he is a mammal and a human." Reading this brought together for me various strands of thought into one clear picture, in harmony with the cosmological picture of the Muslim saints: "Man is a little cosmos, the cosmos is a big man." And the view that Allah created the entire creation as a setting, as it were, into which He placed man, the jewel, the perfect diamond, as the seal and culmination of this creation. ________________________________________________

Poems of ecstatic movement, longing, glimpses and glimmers of the divine reality of our existence: Not a moment can be squandered / not a moment can be lost // Grab the rope and swing out / over the abyss // "What rope?" you say / when there are / ropes all around us // dangling at our elbows and lying in / coils at our feet // But invisible to our visible eyes // Our eyes must quit the visible / to see them

SHAKING THE QUICKSILVER POOL: Poems that point to Infinite Beauty (The Book of Infinite Beauty being the too ambitious previous title of this collection), which is only Allah, al-Jamal, Who created everything out of love in a balance of Beauty and Majesty, two attributes sometimes clearly manifest, sometimes at odds with each other, as seen by our clouded human perceptions. But behind every event and every creation, is that Infinite One, and the quicksilver pool is our total existence here, which, to focus more intensely, we might give a shake (our selves), to see God's Face in the things we see...

LOVE IS A LETTER BURNING IN A HIGH WIND is a chronicle in sequential open field poems of a second visit to Turkey (the first recorded in formal ghazals), and to the glorious atmospheres of Sufi Master Mevlana Rumi and his gnostic teacher, Shams. Included are three extended narrative poems in the thematic style of Rumi's Masnawi, undertaken with no plot or source other than spontaneous inspiration. characterized by talking animals and "decapitated" watermelons. Ecstatic lyricism and sweet apprehension the impulse and goal to glorify and praise this swift life and its Originator and Sustainer: Sometimes I get tired of all this talk about God/ and I just want to go and sit under a tree// but then the tree starts talking to me about God/ and we find ourselves in another conversation

In all the poems of a poet's work there's the impulse to get to the bottom of things, to the original energy pulse, the first cause as it manifests in the present tense, the spark off the main strike. As always, the title came to me first, and the poems followed, some faithful some astray from the theme, but always rebounding back again to resonate with that original strike, in these scattered sparks.