Five Poems
a girl is past midnight
this is the pace
valuables. erasables.
into your green your blue-beaded walk
Re-creational Love Poem
a girl is past midnight
the sun fell upon us we curved into silence
from that land came only news of birth and death
a simple excuse
(they write because they have pen)
at night in biased boredom
came findings of outward shapes of things
mind wrapped around legs then legs were not enough
prayer beads of the village assembled
(where did I pick up this accent so when)
we begged for sugar or a crescent for difference
you sent me words to use
2.
pillar erosion duct geo-arch flowerpot
say the wave had no intention to fall
he crouched and watched
the gift wrap him in water
some counted fingers
we gazed at the sizzling shades on my wall
sacred animals river plants
this has been ongoing
3.
for a pair of sandals
we archived you a footnote
an imaginary acquaintance momentarily
mind-read this body
(we miss retrospectively)
…
a posture so secular
you would think death is exclusive
this is the pace
slither
now a salty and climactic
only this gap (is) already here unflinching in its current texture
binding one rib to another
(this happens everytime a puddle a plane to subtext
one should at least assume
this is how committment is located
a spineful exhale
knees and tulips
and the events between
originate where we are found are sheets of spaces underworld
boneless
is my comrade
brushes us past itte mairimasu i’ll go and come back
take a breath
give it back
valuables. erasables.
edges of his skin flare. (he) lives in a refused kiss. tastefully absent.
(he) lives marginally. at the margins of. skin folds into a parachute.
petals turn blue in his hands. “collisions,” one whispers. whispers “safe.”
how is naked. lemon peel skirts. vitamins. sound of tristis.
prophets march with an allusion. physical likeness no longer granted.
he is afraid that he will be afraid. where is the hostess and her satin smile.
one perhaps has dreamt of the day, today. belugas with batteries. eyes shut wet.
a genre violation. disintegration. “after you,” (he) cribbles, “ a monstrous silhouette.”
slab-count 800 years. pulsate with. strip. meet a sculpture design its fall. how so.
from a marble stand. with a certain degree of difference.
not a drop of blood. shout. all the less so, not twice.
what is naked. boiling spit. alchemy. decision theory.
posted: epic letters inscribed on water. silky walls for borders.
destin: dancers with flickering golden bells on waves.
into your green your blue-beaded walk
switch off the lights
before the eyes photograph
the swollen knuckles.
been knocking on wood for days,
lasted for weeks.
an ever-green listener
with an acoustic mind
set to shelve what was left
from one-word poems
on messy sheets,
hands, mirrorball tears.
she was lost amidst the woods
she was not afraid
an eagle flapped her shoulder
she picked the feathers off her bares
a thief stole heartaches,
threw them
into the abyss at the back of its head.
air pinched,
body remembered
the danger of sliding on dry leaves.
she was lost amidst the woods
she picked the feathers off her bares
an elusive verb took refuge
from the poem she wrote as a child
to find a sentence with no doors
or windows.
a map unfolded.
she was not alarmed.
Re-creational Love Song
Weather rhymed a b c d, his lips loosened at the sight of overcrowding heads popping up to volcanic beats, sketches rubbing the word "hug" on their cheeks. Fish slid out of the corners of his mouth. Just like that, god gave up his nametag.
All was still. Skinny and confident was the devil, dancing amongst the frozen crowd, waving his elbows and sour fingertips, slicing the air in slow waltz with his hips.
Then, the two arrived from long allied distances.
He carried his stage-design on his back, and asked new acquaintances to view him from the front, always. Each time a hand was offered, he handed forth the strings of his violin.
She once jumped on a train, woke to the waterfalling lullaby of two women immuting the world with signs, and was overwhelmed. Why and how she fell on her swollen belly. Certainly. The moon was gone. The toothpick broken.
The mood injector lit up candles of beige and blue. And there was light.
She panicked, fell spread the floor, dropping a bottle forest full of breath. And there was life.
Originally from Istanbul, moved to Vancouver in 2003 to pursue the doctoral degree in Comparative Literature at the University of British Columbia. Her writing has appeared in Bilim ve Teknik and Oylesine. She is also a dancer, currently in training with Kokoro Dance.