I have been in love for seven million years. It was always you.
Don’t ruin it now by telling me your name.
Titles kill. People who come in capital letters rob our souls.
A moratorium on your name and my name, so that we can see each other;
a moratorium on ‘God’ and ‘Peace’ until we learn to use them as verbs.
A moratorium on ‘Love,’ so that this body may become its exquisite synonym.
A moratorium on ‘Better’ and ‘Worse,’ on the word ‘Terrorist’ and the word ‘Enemy,’
on ‘Sin’ and ‘Hell,’ on ‘Heaven’ too, so that our eyes may grow accustomed to the glory of the earth.
A moratorium on the names of Jesus, Allah, Shiva, Yahweh, and Guru,
so that the goddess may have room to breathe, so that we can hear
her ineluctable murmur from the cave of the prophet in each human heart,
so that we can hear her tiny thunder in a violet’s bell, rung by a dewdrop.
Time to re-invent our tongues, let the unexpected
babble in continuous revelation, make up new names for God:
Intergalactic Hummingbird Silence.
Long Legged Spider of the Infinitesimal Point.
Dilated Gaze of the Dragonfly.
Wasted Face in the Bottom of the Grail.
Tantric Kiss of the Tourmaline Pituitary.
Wolf Who Steals my Newborn Heart
and Raises Her on the Milk of the Forest.
Honey Gold Underground Mycelium Fingers.
Humble Nakedness of Melting Snow.
Moon Drop in the Well of Emptiness.
Solstice of my Darkest Day.
Worm of Delight in the Apple of Melancholy.
Ocean of Pomegranate.
River of Thighs.
Bittersweet Berry of My Lady’s Breast.
Vowel of Sighing.
Mother. Friend. Bewilderment.
This is a small representation of the high-quality writings you’ll find in every issue of TIFERET.
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