visiting a past self. Being anywhere makes me thirsty.
When I wake, I ask God to slide into my head quickly before I do.
As a boy, I spit a peach pit onto my father’s prayer rug and immediately
it turned into a locust. Its charge: devour the vast fields of my ignorance.
The prophet Muhammad described a full stomach as containing
one-third food, one-third liquid, and one-third air.
For years, I kept a two-fists-long beard and opened my mouth only to push air out.
One day I stopped in a lobby for cocktails and hors d’oeuvres
and ever since, the life of this world has seemed still. Every night,
the moon unpeels itself without affectation. It’s exhausting, remaining
humble amidst the vicissitudes of fortune. It’s difficult
to be anything at all with the whole world right here for the having.
© Kaveh Akbar 🔒
Some other random works of this poet:
- Despite My Efforts Even My Prayers Have Turned into Threats
- A Boy Steps Into the Water
- Pilgrim Bell
- Exciting The Canvas
- No Is a Complete Sentence
- Look, the Human Is Shrinking
- I Wouldn’t Even Know What to Do with a Third Chance
- Tower of Babel
- Portrait of the Alcoholic Floating in Space with Severed Umbilicus
- The Perfect Poem
- The New World
- Against Dying
- River of Milk
- Against Vanity
- Orchids are Sprouting From the Floorboards
- What Seems Like Joy
- Reza’s Restaurant, Chicago, 1997
- Waiting for the Twelfth
- What Use Is Knowing Anything If No One Is Around
- My Kingdom for a Murmur of Fanfare
- Ways to Harm a Thing
- Forfeiting My Mystique
- Morning Prayer with Rat King