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Daniel Abdal-Hayy Moore (1940 - 2016) was a trailblazing Muslim American poet whose distinctive voice echoes the Romantics, the Beats, the Surrealists, and the Sufis who articulated the spiritual path he chose and loved. Sparkling with wit and acuity, yet rich in human tenderness, Moore's poetry takes the reader on a breathtaking adventure into the mystery of existence and our encounter with the Divine in his own brand of "sacred surrealism...

These Poems written within the limits of 6X4 inch pocket-sized pieces of paper (one poem per piece) in Istanbul, Turkey, visiting dervish friends, listening to long-night spiritual talks (sohbets) in (for me) incomprehensible Turkish, in November of 2013. Translations of the ineffable, on cloud strands floating in air? Words out of nowhere? "Sometimes the dawn comes/up so silently you don't notice/that its tissues of gold have/slid over everyt...

A Hundred Little 3D Pictures started out from those once-popular computer generated images a certain stare, unfocused or crosseyed, could render in layered three dimensions, with some really astonishing results... Recall the excitement in childhood when we looked into a diorama and saw back and back past whatever was being portrayed, not very far back really, perhaps, maybe only a shoebox length back, but peering through the front hole with th...

THE ENIGMA OF IT ALL The enigma of it all stood up and spread out its feathery arms All the doubts and gnarly creatures disappeared from around it fleeing into scarlet woods and back into weeping trees The resplendent enigma straddling the two worlds and all the others intersecting them in the tiniest details of our lives the true enigma in puzzling feathers the one of heavy tread and light repartee who holds conv...

White noise" is "a random signal with a constant power spectral density, " says Google. "Such a signal is heard as a hissing sound, resembling the 'sh' sound in 'ash'. In music and acoustics, the term 'white noise' may be used for any signal that has a similar hissing sound." After chemo and radiation my oncologist asked if I heard a hissing sound in my ears. I said no, having always thought of it as the Music of the Spheres. It's the backgrou...

Poems of Sufi Devotional nature, infused with the lights of nature, and praising and loving Allah The God of nature, and of all, each thread of which vibrates with God's Love in nature and out of nature.

The sound of geese over the house and in the house the prayer on the Prophet The sound of geese over the house and in the house Allah loves you The mountains are full of light and their gigantic shadows are eloquent since they're leaning against the sky and out into space with their crags and outcrops No sound can scale in a dimension commensurate with the pure expanse of it The sound of geese over the house puts a dome of life above us and a ...

Sufi poems from the love-ocean, washing at the shores of this world and the next, with God willing a depth charge or two to find new love grottos, new heights in underwater drownings, new depths in aerial flights. Contradictions? As Walt Whitman said, "Do I contradict myself? Yes, I contradict myself! I contain multitudes." And if we rub the self to its tissue-thin reality, God's Light shines more thoroughly through.

As Muslims who pray the five obligatory prayers each day of our lives, when able we orient ourselves toward Mecca, located in what is now Saudi Arabia, from wherever we happen to find ourselves, farflung in some island fastness, or out in desert dunes, or in a New York hotel room. There are boat people who tie up and face Mecca right in their boats, saintly Moroccan merchants who fling their carpets down just behind the counter where they sell...

The pleasure of feeling the poem discovering itself is always a particular joy in reading this poet -- especially so because the voyage of discovery each poem seems to make is, finally, a journey toward the light - whether inside or outside, grand and glorious or fine and concentrated and elusive and just or almost entirely out of reach... yet somehow still in there or out there somewhere, waiting to be found. (From the Preface, by Tom Clark) ...

This collection from 2013 continues the intended trajectory of a lifetime's work that celebrates and posits the direct perception that The Divine Reality faces us from everywhere and in literally every circumstance of each moment of our lives. In this, the world's soul envelope has been turned inside out, revealing itself in images of light. Rather than invoking metaphors for experience, my project has been to "move from the word as symbol tow...

Eternity shimmers in the room among the bright solid furniture that is the furniture of Eternity the bookcases and lamps the bed I wake from and the sound of the silence here that is its child the swirling ocean of time washing us in its blessings in constant motion of cylinder within cylinder of intangible turning invisible to the touch in which we age minute by minute inwardly forward but motionless in Eternity impossible to calculate except...

We're born in a relationship with theology. Nurtured in the womb by other than our means, born into the world at large, at very large, from our meditative seclusion, our khalwa, the Arabic for spiritual retreat (often practiced in a closet-like room just enough for a devotee to sit comfortably) we emerge into a theological world, willy-nilly. As soon as we take a breath of worldly oxygen we're in a tight relationship with the whole God-system,...

This poem was suggested in a flash by a paragraph in Michael McClure's book, "Scratching the Beat Surface, " in which he quotes Ernst Haekel in the words used here as an epigraph, "Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny." He goes on to say, in explanation, "Haekel meant that the individual, in his growth from meeting of sperm and ovum at conception, lives out, in fetus, the growth and evolution of his tribe, that first he is an amoeba, then a coloni...

In all the poems of a poet's work there's the impulse to get to the bottom of things, to the original energy pulse, the first cause as it manifests in the present tense, the spark off the main strike. As always, the title came to me first, and the poems followed, some faithful some astray from the theme, but always rebounding back again to resonate with that original strike, in these scattered sparks.

This may be a secret among only a few of its recipients, but cancer is a direct and positive gift from God. Its chemo and radiation therapies wrack and ruin us... and its alternative therapies may bewilder us with the arcane and often whacky character of their methods... I chose the traditional medical program of three chemo and thirty-five radiation sessions, begun immediately after diagnosis of my cancer, and I praise Allah for the doctors w...

This is a series of imagistic and light-drenched poems written each day or night of the fast of Ramadan, 2011, here presented in consecutive order as they came. Their purpose: to get nearer...

Somehow the resonance for me during the entertaining of this title as an abiding albeit background theme for the poems, was the perfect crime of our existence: perfect because created by a perfect Creator. A crime because we get up to such malfeasance all the time, at the lower end of it, and a crime at the higher end in the sense that the Sufis often mention, that any existence of theirs before Allah ta'ala, any flake or residue of their self...

Chants for the Beauty Feast are poems in celebration of our breathing, living, daring and imaginal beauty, in this world with all its aches and pangs, and the next and the Unseen world with its intersections into and throughout this one, divinely directed. Light everywhere moving with relentless bliss.

The luster of a glisten is/ enough to elicit bliss// The gleam from a beam/ enough to confound the intellect// The crack of a rock in a creek/ can take us back to where// we lost track// The whiff of a sniff can lift/ even the most morose heart// from the hotbed of heartbreak// All these phenomena/ splinter and splatter in// this world to focus from the/ unseen world onto this one// some hint of the high rainbowing/ laughter to come...