“Try as I might,
I can’t write
you—it’s like
nailing sunlight
onto this white
page. I cannot,
for you are a dream
of yourself. You
who is my beginning
and my destination, even
my path is You.
This is Love.
But what is love? A silent
four-letter word,
when the music
of the entire language is You.
You see beyond me,
and into my possibilities.
But all my possibilities lead
to You.
For it was written that I
would love you,
that it’d be your destiny
to greet me. That You
would be my destiny,
and the rememberers
will utter my poems
only because
I loved
You.
Try as I might,
I can’t write
you—it’s like
nailing sunlight
onto this white
page. I cannot.
But reading this here
it is clear:
You are the poem
writing me.”

Kamand Kojouri

“And there’s you,
with your purity and beauty.
You unyoke me.

We lie on the bed,
closer than a hand in a glove,
yet I still experience this distant ache.
I miss you even in your presence.

How did love find me
when I hid from it so masterfully?
How did love know when to strike?

I look into your infinite eyes
and can say nothing.
Because there, in front of me,
lies everything.
And you unyoke me.”

Kamand Kojouri

“Find me here,
said love.
I will wait for you
below and above.

I’ll wait for you
in the dark, in the light.
I’ll wait for you
in the day, in the night.

I have waited millions of years
and haven’t grown weary once.
All of eternity I will wait
though there’s nowhere I haven’t been once.

I have been in hearts and groins,
in the whole and the chasm.
I have been in birth and death,
in the cries and the orgasm.

If you close your eyes, I am there
in your nakedness, in your truth.
If you ask for me, I will come
in your age, in your youth.

Because I love you, lover.
And wish to be loved.
Find me here, said love.
I wish to be loved.”

Kamand Kojouri

“Make me drunk.
Make me drunk, Beloved.
I crave your drink.
Break these thought chains
and tear these garments.
I crave your nakedness.
I’m speaking to you.
I’m speaking to you, Beloved
Take me to the depths of your ocean.
I’m thirsting for your drink.
I have followed the scent
of your intoxicating perfume
and having arrived at this altar,
I sacrifice my body for your soul.
Oh Beloved, make me drunk.
Make me drunk!”

Kamand Kojouri

“How strange is it
that our beloved
finds its way to us
in everything?
The orange moon,
a freckle,
the smell of coffee—
are all bridges
to the one we desire.
How does our beloved find us
in this way?
Or
are we the ones instead
who find our beloved in everything?
Our intense want of them
necessitates the nearness of them.
And so we seek beauty
only to be flooded with the beauty
of our beloved.
And we write ellipses on the page
only to be thrice reminded
of the freckle
below their lips…”

Kamand Kojouri

“The way a love letter longs to be read
I long for you.
The way the poor Kane longs for his sled
I long for you.

The way the moon longs for the dark of night
I long for you.
The way a nestling bird longs for flight
I long for you.

I am blessed
and I am cursed.
I have waited for so long.
I need you to come to me.
And remind me
of who I was once.”

Kamand Kojouri

“To see you is to forget my name.
To forget this tight collar
and that delayed train.
To forget the conflict with the landlady
and the worry that my students won’t like me.
These trifles lose themselves
in the valleys of your brows
and the seas of your hair.

To see you is to forget my name.
To forget if it matters what I do
and whether what I do matters.
To forget who I think I am
and who I think I ought to become.
To forget every past moment
and unremember
every moment to come.

To see you is to forget my name.
To forget myself
and forget the world.
These trivialities drown themselves
in the dark eyes that stare back at me.
Because to see you is to see
you.
Only you.”

Kamand Kojouri

“How hard it was for me
to find you the perfect gift.
I had looked everywhere
and considered every idea
until I had an epiphany
and felt as wise as the magi.
For my gift would be simple.
For my gift would be honest.
How hard it was for me
to wrap myself neatly
and feign sobriety.
Yet,
how easy it was for you
to pull the ribbon and uncover me.
Exposing my fears.
Exposing my desires.
How hard it was for me
to gift myself to you.
Yet,
how easy it was for you
to make me undone.”

Kamand Kojouri

“How absurd is it
that when we are in love,
we divide the world into two.
One that holds our lover
and the other that holds
everyone else.
What is even more absurd
is that we live in that second world
and every day, we pass by strangers
who remind us of our lover:
how they are like them
and how they are not.”

Kamand Kojouri

“The clothes of time are wet
because he foolishly stopped
to witness your beauty
in the rain.”

Kamand Kojouri