I Think, I Don’t Believe

You judge my best,
not lows to which I sink, I don’t believe; not even God
forgives the things I think, I don’t believe.

As I have lived
no clean example, I’m not free of guilt for what my children
smoke and eat and drink, I don’t believe.

My tip-toe thoughts
won't wake up conscience in the night to glare at what
by day it gives a nod and wink, I don’t believe.

Time never wings
while spirit dallies, youth un-spent's not lost, no grief if heart
and head pull out of sync, I don’t believe.

Furrows dragged
in fields of guilt, these lines, though short, seem long, not justifying
such expense of ink, I don’t believe.

Inducing up,
deducing down, the circles of my logic rattle
weighty gears, not rinky-dink, I don’t believe.

For all your proof
of lading, for all of Darwin’s finches' beaks, spite all,
you’ll never hear the money clink, I don’t believe.


William Dennis has been attempting ghazal for sixteen years, as a way of engaging with great writers and the soul of the East.  In turn, he feels it fitting that his own cultural heritage be injected into the mix, making ghazal universal in practice as well as in principle.  As well as previous publication in The Ghazal Page, his ghazal have appeared recently in CONTEMPORARY GHAZALS, R.W. Watkins, editor.