AN IDEA OF IMPROVISATION
AS A HAUNTOLOGY WITH
A RECIPE FOR PERSIAN ROULETTE
(after Kaveh Akbar)
Why does life set tar along our path?
As a child nearly any thesaurus
roared like a favorite dinosaur until
the beloved came before me to leave
a cursive sitar next to certain furniture
on legs too short & dark for longing
how far must my sheep now wander
inside the silent ones a rose to set art
circling round the sound of our father
like a tarot type of card in some casino
of the heart down to our bottom holler
I would grip the right arm of a slot machine
like the leftover parts of a long gone lover
—if only I found the Farsi word for star
