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Nabi Dorsey

of

Endicott, NY, US

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to the hard edge

by

Nabi Dorsey

Human beings are
freedom,
here,not teachers,
not of soul energy
and music,
these disasters, the crumbling
lives,
do taste sweet
in the morning air
of waking, after
afer,
be calm.


less not loose enough

by

Nabi Dorsey


a painful knot
gets loosened
by river water,

a small rush of tide water
stays back from shore,
and becomes harsh,

then a storm splashes
the whole shore,
stagnant pools
become storm clouds
wandering away.

this is how love
talks through
the mirror.

Sun fades on a post
as the tree shadow
grows,

don't listen in the dark,
it's a mild mild headache.

stay healthy
in the strong
wind of your active pains,

the longing
for tranformation

we live in the mirror
that can't ever be
seen except in the eyes
of our lover.

there only
no where else is
home.


the perfect code

by

Nabi Dorsey


recognize perfect
love

because
as light is
what we have
never seen before

so you are what
I have never
seen before

the same phenomenon

a rose falling
from the sky

but not falling.

My baby is
the face of
perfect love.

A drunk slowly
less intoxicated

a sober youth
melting into
his
first drunken night

both you
give me now
both miracles.

A white swan emerges
from a clear green
lake in the morning

startling lovers because
both are an image
from the same

creative source....


The sun sees

by

Nabi Dorsey



"I lead some into
darkness."

the perfect circle
the pearl bead,

doesn't care
about the merchant
who trades it for
gold bars...

the pearl is alive
now
but once dreamnt gold dreams
as the merchant does now..
and dreamnt that way for who knows how
long.

wanting a kiss
wanting freedom

now the pearl doesn't need
to sleep
doesn't need dawn's triumphal arch
of beauties coming,

the pearl
the eye
seeing everything we can't now
is coveted
by the beautiful pain of night.


night is over

by

Nabi Dorsey


"Turn your face
toward the Lord" tonight
means

anything I own right now
is kind of blurry
because

shadows have come into
my house

to remind me how precious
your scent and taste
are,

the colors I used to love
the orange stone
you gave me
the amber bowl

are all hidden away
now

because at night I don't need them
only rest
can send me messages about
you.

So I call to you
to come and sleep
with me.


on less than nothing

by

Nabi Dorsey

energy, I taste on the rim
of this old cup,
the drunks who've pressed their lips

and bit themselves sucking out
the last dregs,
still suck

but I have no need of their friendship

here,where it's cold
and the floor has got swept clean
of faces,

I lift the cup
I hold it tightly and tip
to the moomlight,
sipping outside
the hard edge,
letting the dark room
become the grape
broken by my tongue,

tipping through the night
letting loose of all
the bruises that define darkness,
I get drunk
on less than nothing...


beloved nonsense

by

Nabi Dorsey


The bell you O heaven,

the gold we want
O lover and
vision splendid,

will become solid.

You do not waver,
the split between
bough and trunk,

the heat and furnace
black wall,

You melt o kissing fury

but won't stop
the waves crushing
pushing
fears, noises

and we wait
for the smooth white
bowl bottom
of empty truth.
O beloved.


I can not I say

by

Nabi Dorsey

we are singing ,at the end

like a bridge,wet and dry in the sun.

old winds nag at neck,which stretches out as far as
the river,and dips into black.

the laugh,like the creaking footsteps accross
one foot then the next plank or rail is remembered
as a friend is remembered.

we are alone in words,making the journey.

we are pressed and pushed the distance,
to recall each creaky sound
which is nothing but a touch of cold or hot.

the sun slowy rises and our faces move with that.

I'm singing back to this
slowly grasping any part of the structure
any fleck or speck which is within my reach.

And I will rise with
whatever color my father or friend
or enemy has left in front of me.

We need this rope of frail webbing

and now I open up my mouth to
say again
and say again
and like blood pounding
say again.

Best Phone Rates EVER!

an untitled stone

by

Nabi Dorsey

i've wobbled up and down
looking and trying to make words

give me longer life
give me back what's squandered

while choking on road dust

or indulging in the noises
that pass by and pass on

into death.

my ears pop
my eyes see a music beyond
these hands signaling

growing weak older

instead i give this pause
to feel and touch
the wetness of the moment

and the joy of that touching

to break the mind open
with a little purifying blood

that is not sad or tense
or a lie.

and through this struggle
to taste a little damp fresh air

i know i've lived.

the ball I throw

by

Nabi Dorsey

the heat in the ball I
throw
Fire in the ball I throw
Solitude in
the ball I throw

has vanished
in the energy
it took
to heave it up

and laughter
and the solitude
is now more
and not enough

I'm crying like the ball
I tossed
and waiting just to
land

that is enough
held thrown
vanish
arrive in the hand again-
that is never
enough

I am the ball
I threw

sshh! this goes on
and on-

dependence

by

Nabi Dorsey

What is dependable now?
On the high top
the white mountain has
no odor,

to the deep intestinal gush
where our stinking
afterthoughts lay
sick and dying

a slide ring waddles
up down with glittering
arcs and a sweaty back

the music and rattling
leaps through the air
surrounds us

the beggars and
clever ministers in our
head and chest
point out

"with passion life exists"
the rags we passionate wear
are robes of honest honor"

"with cool clever
tongues a man or woman
may feed their life
and a thousand others<
nakedness is not love
but refusal to"

which is reliable?

suspicious characters

by

Nabi Dorsey

the chinese rune turns down its
nose
the arabic spikes you as you
run.

the latin tramples with
majestic logic
and the common boot.

I shout as any madman would:
suspicious characters
make me interested. . !!
whose logical punishments,embellishments,
and spears will
I seek out?

the banana curves
of the japanese verb

the cloudy murk
of english common
rhetoric,
hand in your pocket. . .?

I am a madman I love
to hate them all.

I hate to love
them all.