And When I Made This Final Step. And when I made this final stepand fell into the deep pitmy friends stood all around meat the very edge and each was holding an assault riflecarved out of woodand a handful of soilwarm and dry and my pleading did not matter anymorebecause when the oldest one calledevery…
A Taste of War . At my favorite cafenow everything will havea strange taste.Coffee will be bitterfrom the tears of childrenfrom Bucha,and the cream will be saltyfrom Mariupol defenders’ blood.And the fragments of bombs,which broke Chernihiv and Kharkiv,will squeak on your teeth every time.At my favorite caféI’ll look back and won’t seethe familiar facesof relatives.In…
.#BuchaMassacre .there are bodiesbut no words no words noneonly bodies lying around what can those words do anywayagainst brute forceagainst their hatesuch that even wild beastsare incapable of itsuch that you don’t even knowto which kingdom to attribute these creaturescause biology has no such categoriesno dictionaries have any such words none no such words anywhereI…
An Alarm Rang Out in the Sky. An alarm rang out in the skyIn the basement, under the missiles’ noiseThe Baby’s mother collectscrumbs of biscuits from the floor.Over there, under the “Grad” fireAn ambulance rushes to the city,Shells fly into the house,Hand shakes nervously.And we still do not give up:At the front and in every…
Hate Speech. The language of hate grows from the chestwith heavy breathsbreaths of revengebreaths of justiceyour anger thickens the air, compresses enemy objectsmetal cracks explosions curl inward everything is real you wake up – and there’s nothing to breatheonly the space of hostility will be expanded againthe spacethat you’ll have to squeeze outbreath by breath…
Take an X-ray of the sun, you’ll find. a Rainier cherryat its yellow heart, fireskinned and ripe with reaching.But in the sunlesslush green mosses where the fruitis born, bucketfulsof sweetness only bring to mindvareniki s vishnami,cherry dumplings, made on a boardover the bathtubwe called a kitchen table. I watched my mama workflour deep into the…
Faith. There’s this great darknessin a world that we are suppose to callluminous,a place full of candles at nightburning brightbut only within their insignificant halos Sometimes we can see only some tiny portionsof itsometimes nothing at all… When you see a fireflyjust remember that we feel like thatmost of the time –lighting our journey to…
MY Father’s Basement . bare bulbstrung on a wirefrom the floor beam overheadcrawl space hiddenfrom the upstairs noiseilluminated like the backof a closet behind the clothes decayed leavesthe smell of warped woodbarely enough spacefor his rotting benchmy mother’s old pickle jarsarranged on two-by-fourscircling the cinder block each jar labeledby his craftsman’s handswith the permanenceof black…
Note to Self. If you’ve never doubted the integrity of yoursuperiors or their right to demand your obediencenor felt the sting of wishing for something thatcould not be found on department store shelvesor voting ballots – If you’ve never fallen so deeply in love that itseemed that you had been sleep walking through lifeuntil that…
Whispers in the Dust Don’t mock my flat chest or empty stomachWe didn’t eat for years when we crossed the desertOur people were left as crystalized markersSand blown to glassA woman holding a babyA child bending to pick up a mirageWe died in crystal and came back in duneHigh and mighty, wind swept in regretThey…
Summer Storm .Bamboo screen thin, the streets of VeniceShine through the wasting water. Stagnant love and harmony of goddessDistill between cracked fingertips Imported rose water burns fleshSilk parasol smokes in hazy sun. Alongside worn tundra palette and theMadonna’s stone jugThe muse of ItalySpeaks by rubbing together grape vine branchesSound of smoky summer wine. . Villa…
ScherzoCity. Smashing crashing drumbeats surround, Foot stomping prophets’ pronouncements profound. Scarring jarring thundering storms,Teary preachers rapidly reborn. Wild-eyed believers Are admitted for free. Scowling skeptics …
