alone like this, it is better this way like reading a story all over again like starting to deal with the sea a sea you have never been like starting and reading all over again deep-seated words give me one ax, one knife to cut the water into halves and suffocate all the stories
MY MOM IS GOING TO GIVE BIRTH TO A CLIFF Read More »
this is for the days of the deprived… i drew the curtains, and i filed darkness a black & white movie, a woman her name is sümbülteber the smell of smuggled tobacco coming off from her breast the marks in her bed out of last night under the pillow of the sky the stars
we have gone through the same scent so many times through the same touching those of harmonious and soggy whatever we were looking at they were peeling off i sized up in you the blushing blue of the lake with no shores you piled up the silken voice of the rose in
i was a heedless child i was lulling myself to sleep at a house with its ceiling playing many movies i have hidden inside my thirsty darkness for years
image storms, stormy images, storm images image factories image operations, autopsies solution images desires for desire image image wars, captives victories of victory image image image image of image image victory of the image of image image, image of victory image of image image image of images image of supreme image
How can a survivor describe it to an outsider? There, lights are fast disappearing. Breaths are battling the skies. Flashes of lightning fail to illuminate. All are pitch black. Each hope is crushed by a thousand bolts. Siblings are unseen by siblings. Rage is misdirected. Everybody is everybody’s enemy. We are each our own enemy.
like tidying up the house of a person who died all alone you shall pull yourself together if you can manage you shall put the book in cardboard boxes you shall give away the flowers to the neighbors he used to use the copper utensils you shall casually pile up those copper items at
Beg the Rain After You’ve Gone Read More »
they left the weaponry at the port, and the foamy sea behind they were flying the flag of a hurricane I stood in wonder at the tower, and so much time passed in a little while the evening will arrive, the smell of mold and wood covers the streets while cellars getting cold, the stones
IN THE WAKE OF FRIENDLY SHIPS Read More »
first, their lies showed up faster than sound there was no time to make sense of it time was on their side with the first light of the day the prayers broke into pieces before they prostrated for the barbarian there is nothing else than their sacredness the barbarians arrived from the
THE BARBARIANS ARRIVED Read More »
My gratitude goes to Ahmet Murat and the book “One Poet Riding a Bike” for making me write this poem… You are saying the trees are having a laugh after you fine, well then you have a bike. Laughing of the trees and riding the bike happen to be nice habits like
