Art inherently sides with peace. So does literature… War cannot produce a culture. Its mere capital happens to be nothing but blood and tears. We are not pursuing the meddlesome types who describe it as the ‘art of killing’ humans. It is so because we are busy to address a provocative question in ever shrinking
IN DEEP BLUE DREAMS Read More »
i had a day far away from you today in your absence, i wasn’t acting naturally i blended with downhearted people i just competed with them in misery i teased everybody including me i did not compromise with myself and others i just noticed your image as i was turning the corner i ran after
I. i was a concave hedgehog a hedgehog fetus i used to file my thorns every night before getting to you in the evening we used to go to Star Cove we used to harvest unease while the moon was growing i was touching your ginger hair, and my hands used to tremble you used
What have our hands asked from the moist orchards? Maybe to make the rose happy… Then To make sorrow cry In its pit… On the forehead line in the darkness to make a distant place nearer. To find you in the song’s arch; To wither for you, To stay stuck in you To sleep you
Woman’s feet do fly when sadness sits at their heart The color of night changes with the Romanian dance Wind blows All birds fly away… A dance gambles with us! English Translation by Mesut Şenol
For extracting the soul’s poison From deep down, The iron rod pierces the brainpan Through its darkest location! The cut would not hurt Do not be afraid! Who is going to hear about it The knife cutting the brain By raising its head From the grief of being fatherless. The physician lets The pus of
What burns my hand From you it came The smell of a lost life… The moon with its light sinking in my heart; In the chilly evening By falling into step with love it dances in outlandish songs! Despair burns my hand in my dreams! My soul, captive to the distant destinies seems to be
Out of the sand They appear Unprovoked love affairs With the Poseidon’s Gust! What flies away from their hands are time and locality! Mosaic finds its tongue, A large body of water all pervasive! What caress the word seem to be the boat and its roars, Poseidon Makes life enchanted! The sand’s Lightened apples
A Love Affair at Bardo Museum Read More »
Drowned in vocabulary we sneak between words like the much too close shelves of a huge library where we got lost feelings, our ideas are outdated the vocabulary needs greater attention, words fly, no one knows where they will land, in someone‘s yard, on someone‘s desk and will give us away following those words whoever
the story starting with an apple is familiar and nobody has considered eliminating the need to bite from our genetic code and since biting counts the apple has become an accessory like the orchards trees and lakes cities and people ever longer canine teeth puncture our hopes useless activities at dawn the sky is always
