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100 Days
100 days of mourning
And a 100 small ways of recovering
100 days of walking through fire,
Scalded & burnt, yet still standing
I desire violently and I wait
Like a hermit, I have been living
Like a hidden sun I have been missing
To whom I go when I seek giving
To whom I talk when I'm fully sicken
To whom I open in the middle of my sinking
Words only bloom when I'm all splitting
How Luminous
how luminous, how pretty thou lies
how blurry i see thee with dry eyes
how an ecstacy from a ray of thou shines
so bright it blinds me from mine cries
how dark, how dim thy be
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Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Call to Arms
Only you, O Iranian woman, have remained
In bonds of wretchedness, misfortune, and cruelty;
If you want these bonds broken,
grasp the skirt of obstinacy
Do not relent because of pleasing promises,
never submit to tyranny;
become a flood of anger, hate and pain,
excise the heavy stone of cruelty.
Dear Basketball
Dear Basketball,
From the moment
I started rolling my dad’s tube socks
And shooting imaginary
Game-winning shots
In the Great Western Forum
I knew one thing was real