Naomi Lowinsky
Ghazal of Our Times
The mountain is backlit a blue-green daydream removed from the news of our times
Adrift in the geologic stoned on forever Mountain is muse beyond time
In my dream it’s 1913 Jung’s having visions of blood soon to suffuse his times
I wake to wonder What would he see in the witches brew of our times?
The dead do the cooking in my dream My used-to-be brother-in-law my mother
fry onions for the stew We’ve got this You go work on the ghazal Better use of your time
Our children are on strike against us for we’re complicit in the rape of the earth
Suffering solastalgia they’re on TV at City Hall chanting blues for the end of time
Repeat after me I am not a robot though we’re bundled and sold by Facebook
shown glimpses of glamour to distract us from horror at the corruption the abuse
of our times
You’ve wandered away to the land of the sick in the company of a woman in black
[This is a nightmare] She turns to me You’re not about to lose him There’s still time
Mooncakes celebrate the full autumn moon they celebrate revolution
Be water be a great wave O people of Hong Kong Jujitsu’s the way of our times
The dream says Carry your faerie child your changeling over the mountain
Such a tiny spark Tom Thumb in a cup eternal amuse of my lifetime
The Lady of the Labyrinth swirls through the air her willow wand a wild commotion
Everything moves meanders spirals transmuting what beshrews our times
The Messiah is at my gate insists I read his palm Strong heart line Broken lifeline
Faith wrestles fate Naomi It’s the story of the Jews of all peoples We must suffer
our times
Ghazal of Craft
A ghazal is a dwelling full of windows looks out at the village looks inward in reverie
your craft
A ghazal is a camel carries you across the desert to the oasis where poetry is your craft
Ginsberg said “First thought Best thought” Not when you’re making a ghazal
You’re in and out of the fire transmuting image into melody How’s that for craft?
Why would you want to squeeze your flow into the girdle of a form you never inherited?
The ghazal wallah cries rhythm rhyme refrain gather your chaos in filigree craft
We built this house together in a dream Obama laid the floor beams solid strong
You raised the walls we put in all these windows a jubilee of craft
The forest wanders into the house seeks protection from greed and the axe
The trees are pale not enough sun Call in the Faerie Queen We need Her Craft
Light a candle rub Ganesha’s belly pray that a love child be born in our land
Blood drips from the hanging tree O child of ethnic ambiguity save our craft
Our dream house is ripped from the land tossed on high seas we cling to each other
Obama Obama did you waterproof the floor beams? Did you foresee what’s required
of our craft?
Free white and twenty-one He guns his privilege down to the border
Has himself one long jerk-off blast High Capacity Power Craft
In the terrified heart of El Paso citizens queue up to give blood What’s a ghazal
but the shriek of a cornered gazelle or the mother at Walmart who takes a bullet to save her baby
from assault weapon craft
What’s the use of a dream in this nightmare? The Slasher-in-Chief rules the air waves
runs his knife across the throat of the body politic We’re hostage to his know-nothing fury
Never underestimate his craft
My name is Seesaw I’m hot pink make children laugh on both sides of the border
Never underestimate the power of play conjuring joy where there was agony
Now there’s a craft
