Why Did You Twist Me Up?

Was the Moon A witness Or an accomplice?  I can’t tell But, Both times It was there Sleepless Swollen eye An overripe orange That I mistook  For the sun Why did you twist me up? I ask the staring eye                                                  Who, Clutching every reply Doubts to confide Even a hiccup                                           Hollow Pulp-less fruit With

That Moment

Film tapes turned to ashes Bare feet on the shore, unable to walk The tied ropes that suffocate me Holding you tight while you slip off My naked ego goes to its knees Carrying the stale bitterness of crying too much Will I wake up from this nightmare again? Will I remove all the blades

The Death of Erekle

Adaptation of Epic of Gilgamesh, Tablet VII. The Death of Enkidu “For his Friend Enkidu Gilgamesh  Did bitterly weep as he wandered the wild:   ‘I shall die, and shall I not then be as Enkidu?  Sorrow has entered my heart!” *** ერეკლეს სიკვდილი  გიგლა ეწევა ბოლო ღერს,  სანთელი ანათებს პალატას.  მისი გული ღრიალს ითხოვს, 

Metal Birds

Far behind the house’s rear, among moss and dead leaves was a spring. Connected to the spring by a small staircase of large rocks lie a stream that flowed as a river when it rained and ran dry through summer and winter. Insects–gnats, mosquitos, flies–danced above puddled water in the day, the light giving shape

Hide and Seek

I crept into the dark, vacant stairwell, the source of many family ghost stories and nightmares. The wind vibrated through the walls. The ocean was so close I could hear its hum even here. Time felt slower in the dark, I couldn’t see the change of things, flies in the dust or the dandelion behind

Candle Soup

The sterile metal of the needle pushed against my skin. It probed the quivering tissue, like a ripe grape. Then with skin pillowing around the tip, it sank beneath the surface. I suppressed a wince. It wasn’t so much the needle as what I knew was waiting for me in the next hour: crushing immobility