Chants for the Beauty Feast are poems in celebration of our breathing, living, daring and imaginal beauty, in this world with all its aches and pangs, and the next and the Unseen world with its intersections into and throughout this one, divinely directed. Light everywhere moving with relentless bliss.

.".".The look of love death has on its face and in its fathomless eyes as behind the burning irises legions upon legions of angels file up and down a spiraling staircase carrying love-notes and bringing back blessings and reprieves..."" I'm really not sure why this particular collection of my poems is called Blood Songs, the title it has had since beginning the first poem of the book written in October of 2000, and though, as with other titles of mine, not necessarily threading a theme throughout, yet the title stands notwithstanding... and so it stands.

This may be a secret among only a few of its recipients, but cancer is a direct and positive gift from God. Its chemo and radiation therapies wrack and ruin us... and its alternative therapies may bewilder us with the arcane and often whacky character of their methods... I chose the traditional medical program of three chemo and thirty-five radiation sessions, begun immediately after diagnosis of my cancer, and I praise Allah for the doctors who treated me with their medicine chest of tough love. _________________ Redemption happens the way/ water falls/ Forgiveness is air/ let into an airless room/ Even at the top of the highest peak/ we can't just step off into the sky/ At some point only God's Love has any reality/ and everything hangs enraptured from that ferocious hook/ Streams of light continue to enter us from we/ know now where/ The truth of our beings/ light streaming everywhere

The sound of geese over the house and in the house the prayer on the Prophet The sound of geese over the house and in the house Allah loves you The mountains are full of light and their gigantic shadows are eloquent since they're leaning against the sky and out into space with their crags and outcrops No sound can scale in a dimension commensurate with the pure expanse of it The sound of geese over the house puts a dome of life above us and a sea of life below us and a world of life all around us and a shaft of living Light inside us

As Muslims who pray the five obligatory prayers each day of our lives, when able we orient ourselves toward Mecca, located in what is now Saudi Arabia, from wherever we happen to find ourselves, farflung in some island fastness, or out in desert dunes, or in a New York hotel room. There are boat people who tie up and face Mecca right in their boats, saintly Moroccan merchants who fling their carpets down just behind the counter where they sell embroidery thread to very particular customers (I am a witness). We can't get too "far out" when we stop to face Mecca five times and more a day, or in the solitude of our nights, knowing the plumb line goes straight through to the next world, and its rising to the holy heights.

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.

The luster of a glisten is/enough to elicit bliss//The gleam from a beam/enough to confound the intellect//The crack of a rock in a creek/can take us back to where//we lost track//The whiff of a sniff can lift/even the most morose heart//from the hotbed of heartbreak//All these phenomena/splinter and splatter in//this world to focus from the/unseen world onto this one//some hint of the high rainbowing/laughter to come...

Poetic inspiration continues to be a mystery to me, but I am its deep advocate, and hold to its irrational and shady acreage like a greedy real estate developer gazing out over the possibilities (a ramshackle hut here, a barn there, a castle with a lake yonder...). Is it angels, djinn, my black cat curled at the bottom of my bed while I'm hot in composition mode? My "unconscious," "God Consciousness?" (my fervent prayer).

Poems of Sufi Devotional nature, infused with the lights of nature, and praising and loving Allah The God of nature, and of all, each thread of which vibrates with God's Love in nature and out of nature.

We're born in a relationship with theology. Nurtured in the womb by other than our means, born into the world at large, at very large, from our meditative seclusion, our khalwa, the Arabic for spiritual retreat (often practiced in a closet-like room just enough for a devotee to sit comfortably) we emerge into a theological world, willy-nilly. As soon as we take a breath of worldly oxygen we're in a tight relationship with the whole God-system, as believers or non-believers, until our last breath leaves us. So in the title, it's a Throne that is perpendicular, at an always angle, to all that is in our and all worlds, while still being "seated" (only "as it were") within it, and Allah "seated" upon it. And this is our present and ever-present reality, in all its manifestations. It's a way of seeing and a way of being, and everyone down to the minutest mouse, is in "theological" relation to it. Oh, that feather floating through the air, and that ant at the water drain! Yes, you there... you too!