Tuesday, April 9, 2013


At This Party

I don't want to be the only one here
Telling all the secrets —

Filling up all the bowls at this party,
Taking all the laughs.

I would like you
To start putting things on the table
That can also feed the soul
The way I do.

That way
We can invite

A hell of a lot more

A Gigantic Ego

The only problem with not castrating
A gigantic ego is

That it will surely become amorous
And father
A hundred screaming ideas and kids

Who will then all quickly grow up
And skillfully proceed

To run up every imagianable debt
And complication of which your brain
Can conceive.

This would concern normal parents
And any seekers of freedom

And the local merchants nearby
As well.

They could very easily become forced
To disturb your peace;

All those worries and bills could turn to
Wailing ghosts.

The only problem with not lassoing
A runaway ego is

You won't have much time to sing
In this sweet

A Gauge Of A Good Poem

The gauge of a good poem is

The size of the love-bruise

It leaves on your neck.


The size of the love-bruise

It cn leave on your soul.


The size of the love-bruise

It can leave on your brain.


It could be all of the


I Knew We Would Be Friends

As soon as you opened your mouth

And I heard your soft


I knew we would be


The first time, dear pilgrim, I heard

You laugh,

I knew it would not take me long

To turn you back into


The Subject Tonight

The subject tonight is love

And for tomorrow night as well.

As a matter of fact,

I know of no better topic

For us to discuss

Until we all


I Cherish Your Ears

Dear Pilgrim,

I love your shoes, your coat,

Your pants, your hat, your furry head,

Your cup, you bowl,

You messy closets,

And most of all — I cherish your cute ears.

Why? Don't ask!

Just speak what you love about me.

Come closer if you are feeling

A little timid today

Or dense

Because surely you would find something

Very endearing about



We can pass many years

Talking so silly,

Like two Highly Advanced Aspirants —

Like two Emancipated Holy Vagrants

Who are sharing His Bottle

Of Truth

And feeling so damn good

And Drunk and Free.

I Follow Barefoot

I long for You so much

I follow barefoot Your frozen tracks

That are high in the mountains

That I know are years old.

I long for You so much

I have even begun to travel

Where I have never been before.

Hafiz, there is no one in this world

Who is not looking for God.

Everyone is trudging along

With as much dignity, courage

And grace

As they possibly


A Suspended Blue Ocean

The sky

Is a suspended blue ocean.

The stars are the fish

That swim.

The planets are the white whales

I sometimes hitch a ride on,

And the sun and all light

Have forever fused themselves

Into my heart and upon

My skin.

There is only one rule
On this Wild Playground,

For every sign Hafiz has ever seen

Reads the same.

They all say,

"Have fun, my dear; my dear, have fun,

In the Beloved's Divine


O, in the Beloved's




The Subject Tonight Is Love
(Pumpkin House 1996) 

Seemingly forever, Hafiz (Shams-ud-din Muhammad Hafiz, 1320-1389) has been called "The Tongue of the Invisible" and is the most beloved poet of Persia (Iran). To many Iranians Hafiz is a dear and personal friend speaking to them now.

"The foundation of Hafiz's poetry is rooted in the beautiful human need for companionship as well as in the soul's innate desire for the complete abandonment of all experience except Light."

In many ways, Hafiz is playing music right next to us.