In an interview, Robert Bly defines the Islamic form ghazal as thirty-six syllable stanzas that ultimately end with the same word, called a radif. This peculiarity to American poetry is also a peculiarity to America in general. The best translation for the word, according to Bly, is "enough for us." Is anything really "enough" for America?

Without taking too much of a political slant, or a religious slant, or a selfish slant, or any slant for that matter, I have entitled this portfolio of poetry Enough.

It's "enough" in that it is a varied selection of poetry. Some of the poems are light, some are heavy, some are weird, some are just plain fun. Mostly, they are experiments in line, sound, image, and subject, which is more than enough for one sitting.

I wanted this collection to be a foreshadowing of a lifelong accumulation of publications and awards, enough validation to keep me going.

If I failed at anything, it's probably because of restraint. I either exercised not enough, or I exercised so much that I couldn't see when enough was enough.

Anyway, enjoy my babies; love all over them, for the next time you see some of them, I'll probably have murdered them.

"for whatever is born of God conquers the world." 1 John 5:4

When the children flee
In terror from the flaming sack
Of fountains and firecrackers;

When the grandmother
Complains about the ringing
In her ears and the sour smell
Of sulfur that sears her sinus;

When the uncle in the apron
Standing modestly at the grill
Curses the oversize tongs,
And damns the easy-light charcoal,
Despite what the cartoon match
On the bag has to say;

Remember the year before,
However vague the memory,

When you held your hands
To the wind and caught
A hint of what it might
Mean to be born of God.