https://ann.org/tlg/Recent content in The Literary Groong on Armenian News Network - GroongHugo -- 0.128.0en-usFri, 24 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20260424-Afeyan-some-self-dissassembly-required.htmlFri, 24 Apr 2026 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20260424-Afeyan-some-self-dissassembly-required.htmlWhen you’re at the end of your rope, hanging them on the streets no longer trending When your identity shallow, impermanent, changing, tilted, twisted in the livid wind When you posture strong faith and lust for glory, expansion, enslaving the infidel freely When you are manufactured history no angel ever witnessed during your hellish spree How may you treat hardworking, non-militarist side shows grazing in your path unconvinced? Fun fresh tightly wound villages, monuments thousands of years in nourishing unbroken spirithttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20250920-Afeyan-Orsotheysay.htmlSat, 20 Sep 2025 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20250920-Afeyan-Orsotheysay.htmlA planet spins dragging atmospheres rich in drama, a theory in allure Zodiac of fear, arms, scopes, flybys, hover, acquiesce, dive bomb, rest Tomorrow for our children, engorged coffers, debt burdens, stocks, tanks Church on Sunday, Golf my Saturday, boy’s night out, girls scream, so yeah Last will and testament, AI will absorb, reinterpret, purge, redact, reverse Stale narrative, sausage grinder trained, weights adjusted, hype stroked stare The rumor trill, social media friendsy, influencers stroke it rapid, agape, readyhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20250622-Kalayjian-IamGuilty.htmlSun, 22 Jun 2025 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20250622-Kalayjian-IamGuilty.htmlՓոխանակ հատիկ հատիկ իմ հարցերը լուծելու Ծուլութեամբս թողեցի որ այդ փոքր հարցերը կուտակուին Դառնալն անյաղթահարելի ապառաժ, անմագլցելի լեր Ես եմ մեղաւոր . . . Փոխանակ իմ արդար աշխատանքով ապրուստս վաստկելու Ջանացի խաբելով ու սուտ խոստումներով շուտ հարստանալ Նկատի չառնելով թէ ոորու կը խաբեմ դրացի, հարեւան, հայրենակից Այսպաիսով դարձայ բոլորին անվստահելի, սուտասան, աւազակ: Ես եմ մեղաւոր . . . Հարստանալու համար շատ տարբեր աշխատանքներ ստանձնեցի Իմ ջանասիրութիւնս վաշխարուներու տրամադրեցի Բարձրագոյն վճարումները ստանալու համարhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20250424-Afeyan-AprilComesAgain110.htmlThu, 24 Apr 2025 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20250424-Afeyan-AprilComesAgain110.htmlApril comes in mandates one hundred and ten Reflexive poesy for 4-24, reflective loop gravity State denial, tortured nightingales a’gargle Makeup on the tiny PM, bald as a turtle’s carapace Shiny terrace, empty grab for dower power sunken swimmer He’s your little bitch, a national spasm, a glitch, pick him root by root Calls unanswered, Ankara in Baku, frying prisoners tortured till blue Stealing crescent stamped sovereignty on a map defloweredhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20250216-Afeyan-AprilPamphleteers.htmlSun, 16 Feb 2025 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20250216-Afeyan-AprilPamphleteers.htmlWill to power Will to will a tiny Nation to cower Diminutive stature Bearded, smiling Begging, bald, coward Skewered puppets Seasoned spit-rolling To ashes dripping Declarations, edicts, threats Hung by their feet martyrs Axe wielding officers honored Sleeping dual devils Sunni, Hebrew, till Petrol reserves dry Iran fall heavy Slaves they will strip, be Part oven basting Turkey Jerky, perky, finally dirty As traces of origins unsavory Sit for prayers, blood drinkinghttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20240424-Afeyan-UnrealisticScoundrelousness.htmlWed, 24 Apr 2024 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20240424-Afeyan-UnrealisticScoundrelousness.htmlPoor Turkic hordes and spokes-snakes Alas. no solution here, beyim beh No hope for drums and dreams No Armenian nation is ever destroyed Not as you want a la soluzione finale No, efendim. Yok, choking children, yok beh. You can push asunder Russian Armenians You can wait till they disperse, fade, sell out The vast Armies of Western Armenians Reconvened already past our stream of shoahs Round and round through new Azeri mongrelshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20240324-AAslibekyan-MyHomelandMyOneandOnly.htmlSun, 24 Mar 2024 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20240324-AAslibekyan-MyHomelandMyOneandOnly.htmlTranslated from Armenian by Artsvi** Bakhchinyan** andNora Armani Today, I long to enjoy my furtive old age, as I securely wrap myself in a shawl, sipping my tea, oblivious to the news, indifferent to currency inflations and the declining price of oil. Today, I wish to cede to an impulse; an urge to live passively. Today, I hope to lose my glasses, and with them my sight and my mind, in the throes of this blinding painhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20240317-Kalayjian-JoyofWalking.htmlSun, 17 Mar 2024 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20240317-Kalayjian-JoyofWalking.htmlÿþ<�h�t�m�l� �x�m�l�n�s�:�v�=�"�u�r�n�:�s�c�h�e�m�a�s�-�m�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t�-�c�o�m�:�v�m�l�"� � �x�m�l�n�s�:�o�=�"�u�r�n�:�s�c�h�e�m�a�s�-�m�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t�-�c�o�m�:�o�f�f�i�c�e�:�o�f�f�i�c�e�"� � �x�m�l�n�s�:�w�=�"�u�r�n�:�s�c�h�e�m�a�s�-�m�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t�-�c�o�m�:�o�f�f�i�c�e�:�w�o�r�d�"� � �x�m�l�n�s�:�m�=�"�h�t�t�p�:�/�/�s�c�h�e�m�a�s�.�m�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t�.�c�o�m�/�o�f�f�i�c�e�/�2�0�0�4�/�1�2�/�o�m�m�l�"� � �x�m�l�n�s�=�"�h�t�t�p�:�/�/�w�w�w�.�w�3�.�o�r�g�/�T�R�/�R�E�C�-�h�t�m�l�4�0�"�>� � � � �<�h�e�a�d�>� � �<�m�e�t�a� �h�t�t�p�-�e�q�u�i�v�=�C�o�n�t�e�n�t�-�T�y�p�e� �c�o�n�t�e�n�t�=�"�t�e�x�t�/�h�t�m�l�;� �c�h�a�r�s�e�t�=�u�n�i�c�o�d�e�"�>� � �<�m�e�t�a� �n�a�m�e�=�P�r�o�g�I�d� �c�o�n�t�e�n�t�=�W�o�r�d�.�D�o�c�u�m�e�n�t�>� � �<�m�e�t�a� �n�a�m�e�=�G�e�n�e�r�a�t�o�r� �c�o�n�t�e�n�t�=�"�M�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t� �W�o�r�d� �1�5�"�>� � �<�m�e�t�a� �n�a�m�e�=�O�r�i�g�i�n�a�t�o�r� �c�o�n�t�e�n�t�=�"�M�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t� �W�o�r�d� �1�5�"�>� � �<�l�i�n�k� �r�e�l�=�F�i�l�e�-�L�i�s�t� �h�r�e�f�=�"�t�l�g�-�2�0�2�4�0�3�1�7�-�K�a�l�a�y�j�i�a�n�-�J�o�y�o�f�W�a�l�k�i�n�g�.�f�l�d�/�f�i�l�e�l�i�s�t�.�x�m�l�"�>� � �<�l�i�n�k� �r�e�l�=�E�d�i�t�-�T�i�m�e�-�D�a�t�a� � �h�r�e�f�=�"�t�l�g�-�2�0�2�4�0�3�1�7�-�K�a�l�a�y�j�i�a�n�-�J�o�y�o�f�W�a�l�k�i�n�g�.�f�l�d�/�e�d�i�t�d�a�t�a�.�m�s�o�"�>� � �<�!�-�-�[�i�f� �!�m�s�o�]�>� � �<�s�t�y�l�e�>� � �v�\�:�� �{�b�e�h�a�v�i�o�r�:�u�r�l�(�#�d�e�f�a�u�l�t�#�V�M�L�)�;�}� � �o�\�:�� �{�b�e�h�a�v�i�o�r�:�u�r�l�(�#�d�e�f�a�u�l�t�#�V�M�L�)�;�}� � �w�\�:�� �{�b�e�h�a�v�i�o�r�:�u�r�l�(�#�d�e�f�a�u�l�t�#�V�M�L�)�;�}� � �.�s�h�a�p�e� �{�b�e�h�a�v�i�o�r�:�u�r�l�(�#�d�e�f�a�u�l�t�#�V�M�L�)�;�}� � �<�/�s�t�y�l�e�>� � �<�!�[�e�n�d�i�f�]�-�-�>� � �<�l�i�n�k� �r�e�l�=�t�h�e�m�e�D�a�t�a� � �h�r�e�f�=�"�t�l�g�-�2�0�2�4�0�3�1�7�-�K�a�l�a�y�j�i�a�n�-�J�o�y�o�f�W�a�l�k�i�n�g�.�f�l�d�/�t�h�e�m�e�d�a�t�a�.�t�h�m�x�"�>� � �<�l�i�n�k� �r�e�l�=�c�o�l�o�r�S�c�h�e�m�e�M�a�p�p�i�n�g� � �h�r�e�f�=�"�t�l�g�-�2�0�2�4�0�3�1�7�-�K�a�l�a�y�j�i�a�n�-�J�o�y�o�f�W�a�l�k�i�n�g�.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20240309-GDavtyan-Paravoryal.htmlSat, 09 Mar 2024 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20240309-GDavtyan-Paravoryal.htmlԵրկինքը և երկիրը կապված չեն իրար հետ Ցնծության ու սուգի դյութական շղթայով։ Արձագանքված սերն է, Որ ոսկե օղով հանգուցել է Տիեզերքի անհունությունը Սփոփանքի պատրանքներով․․․ Նրբին մատներով ոսկեծղի, Հորինել է Ծաղիկների թերերը, Ասեղնավոր եզրերով, Գալարուն կորություններով, Գեղանի մերկության նրբին ձեվերով, Եվ հյուսել է այս գույները, Երկնի կապույտը, Արեվի շողերը, Արշալույսի ցոլերը, Որ համբուրվում են իրար հետ, Իմ հետ, Եվ լուսավորում են այգը, Ծնում են օրավուրը․․․ Հազար կույսերից Ճաճանչների հազար աչքեր Թարթում են,https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20240210-GDavtyan-Whispers.htmlSat, 10 Feb 2024 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20240210-GDavtyan-Whispers.htmlIn the kingdom of whispers, a tale began, Of a love entangled in a web, a forbidden plan, The gossip mill whirred with a sinister delight, As rumors took flight, in the stillness of the night. A couple, adored by the public eye, Caught in a storm, under scrutiny’s sky, A beautiful best friend, a twist of fate, Betrayal and lust, a narrative they create. The broken family, a tragic scene,https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20240203-Afeyan-Angst.htmlSat, 03 Feb 2024 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20240203-Afeyan-Angst.htmlGive me German philosophy French gab, wine, poetry Italian cuisine, belle cantos, scenery Spanish painters, dancers, guitars Olé Japanese fighting styles, haikus, sushi Russian novels, laments, morbidity and me Alcohol spilled in silent forests of envy African suns come rise and sigh Black Slavery and Indian castes As Nazis seek manual scavenger Book burner, oiled submerger Cleaning society excrementally Expose Poland, Turkey, Hungary, Israel Brazil, Egypt, Iran, North of the DMZhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20231007-Keyishian-ForDavid.htmlSat, 07 Oct 2023 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20231007-Keyishian-ForDavid.htmlThe streets of Stepanakert are lined With bags. The streets surrounding Stepanakert are lined With guns. With armor. With shields. With hatred. With philistines. Echoes from the past become louder As children cry sitting among these bags filled with their toys of little lions and teddy bears. They say history repeats itself. Pray it repeats itself. Long ago when an entire civilization was almost destroyed, And their bodies threatened by the enemy to be fed to vultures and tossed to wolveshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230930-Rshtuni-Yerp.htmlSat, 30 Sep 2023 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230930-Rshtuni-Yerp.htmlԵրբ**** Երբ խաղաղության քարոզիչները կատարեալ խելագարութեամբ Լեցուած վախով անվստահութեամբ և հաղթելու կամքի սնանկութեամբ Նոր բացատրութիւններ կը հնարեն զանցառութիւններ արդարացնելու: Երբ գործատերերը հայրենահզոր աշխատանքի առիթներու փոխարէն Ամենեարագ և եսամոլ միչոցներով հարստանալու ծուղակներ կը լարեն: և ահաւասիկ ան որ առիաբար ու պարկեշտութեամբ հաղթանակելու արուեստին ուսուցիչը պիտի դարնար հիմա զոհուած ու թաղուած է՝ իսկ ողջ մնացողները ճաշարաննրու և սրճարաններու մէջ սպասարկելով իրենց ընտանիքներուն ամենօրուայ կարիքները մատակարարելով զբաղած են: և ահաւասիկ ան որ ցոյց պիտի տար նվաճել արդարութեան և իրավունքիhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230923-Afeyan-WhenArmeniansDieAgain.htmlSat, 23 Sep 2023 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230923-Afeyan-WhenArmeniansDieAgain.htmlAnd again And again In the hands of smiling barbarians Armies of conquering monkeys Rattling helmets against rocks Stomping boots made in China Bullets by the bucket Guns poking eye sockets. When Turks scam the earth And dance over corpses Professing religion, piety, rape Smiling to the camera Riding on tanks Drones killing new conscripts By digital prowess Azeri animals left to graze Mother Russia, encouraging The raids, hospital bombingshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230618-Davtyan-HyeZinvorner.htmlSun, 18 Jun 2023 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230618-Davtyan-HyeZinvorner.htmlՀԱՅԶԻՆՎՈՐՆԵՐ Դուք մեր սրտի կտորն եք Մեր սերերի բաբախը, Մասունք-մասունք միասնացած, Խիզախումն ու անվախը, Իրար մեջքի՝ թիկունք կանգնած Հայրենիքի սահմանը Պինդ ու անխոց պահպանելու Մեր խոստումն ու հավատը։ Դուք մեր սերի զավակները Որ ելել եք լեռ ու դաշտ, Մտել հայրենիքի գիրկը, Ու մեր սիրտը խաչապաշտ․ Դիրք ու պատնեշ նվիրումի, Հառնում եք հեստ, աննահանջ, Կյանք էլ զոհում ազգ ու երկրի Հավերժության ի պահանջ։ Հերոսական է ձեր ելքը, Մրրկումով պայքարի, Ոնց խաչվում են մերկ սուսերքըhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230610-Kalayjian-YerrortVart.htmlSat, 10 Jun 2023 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230610-Kalayjian-YerrortVart.htmlԵրբ փորձեցի ըմբռնել Ընկերութեան, մտերմութեան, Ջերմ հասկացողութեան գաղտնիքը Ինծի ըսին թէ այդ սէր է, պահանջկոտ, Խնամքի, ուշադրութեան եւ սնուցումի կարօտող: Անոր համար պատրաստ պէտք է ըլլաս զոհելու մի քանի իտեալներ, վերանայիլ նախնտրութիւններ, գործնական եւ տեսլական նպատակներուդ կարեւորութեան շարքը փոխել, եւ պէտք է կարենաս կեդրոնանալ ընտրածդ ծաղիկին . . . Եւ ես գացի ծաղկին ան որ վառվրուն էր եւ վայրի Անոր բուրմունքը իւրայատուկ էր Եւ անոր հպումը կախարդական Եւ ան հարցուց ինծի եթէ կրնա՞մ սիրել զինքըhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230603-Afeyan-ThereMustBeAWay.htmlSat, 03 Jun 2023 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230603-Afeyan-ThereMustBeAWay.htmlIn this burning world of change and clamor there must be a way False truth and lies a’glamour, there must be a way When Google, Apple, Meta and Chat Bots slide you fluff glimmering as truth and not solid granite somber unduality In that world of deep fakes, cheap dates, meek heroes, flights of crippled avatars How will the young know deeply an art, a science, a craft, a discipline, years and tears, dedication, endless resolve, maturing skill?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230513-Davtyan-Lousnga.htmlSat, 13 May 2023 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230513-Davtyan-Lousnga.htmlԼ****ՈՒՍՆԿԱ مهتاب**** Իրանյան աշխարհի ջազ երաժշտության ու երգարվեստի հիմնադիր ու առաջատար երգիչ ու գիթարահար ՎԻԳԵՆ ՏԵՐՏԵՐՅԱՆԻՆ, իր երգերով պարսիկ ու հայ սերունդներ հիացրեց Լուսնկա, Սիրահարների մտերիմն ես, Սիրահարների մխիթարությունը, Որ գրկվում են Քո գրկում։ Աշխարհից հեռու, Իրար գրկում, Քո գրկում են լինում, Քո ոսկեմղեղ վրանում, Շուրթ շուրթի Սիրո խելացնոր վայելքում։ Լուսինը երբ մահիկ է Ոսկե շյուղ է, Շեղբում է ամպերին, Փափուկ ու գեղանի աղջիկներին, Մտնում է նրանց ծոցը։ Երբ լրանում ու բակ է կապումhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230506-Kalayjian-FaithForYou.htmlSat, 06 May 2023 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230506-Kalayjian-FaithForYou.htmlFaith . . . for You! I hide my failures and defeat in the fog. While declaring victory and triumph in the light. I bury my investors, my entire nation in debt. I make deals for my pockets in the darkness of fog. As I provide handouts of pittance for your lunch. I ruin and dismantle your factories in the dark For my cousins and family, I buy in the bulk.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230424-Afeyan-NoAprilIsGoodApril.htmlMon, 24 Apr 2023 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20230424-Afeyan-NoAprilIsGoodApril.htmlNever a year, never a tear spared dries away memory swells for the smell of genocide in spring Turks past fat Sultan decaying imperial spectacle, now modern, young, hopeful, ruthless, slipping a little French lingo to class up their base coat of red barbarisms. A little German discipline into armies of flake warriors eager to abuse and haunt till death women children and old folks in desert marches Ruthless to the point of perfection.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20221231-Afeyan-Concrete.htmlSat, 31 Dec 2022 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20221231-Afeyan-Concrete.htmlIt has to be concrete, precise, incomplete It must compete, repeat, stress, climb steep reject cliches, cliques, tricher, bleach argue, sinew, do end innu falling ears blue, blossomed Dead leaf stuffed munchers turning clocks back, down ravines less ordered, less polar, less vice, anger. There is no going back. Essays, trials by ink and darts pre-poisoned Darting ahead smashed 6 o’clock news, This just in, breaking hues Same as it ever was.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20221224-Afeyan-RedLeaf.htmlSat, 24 Dec 2022 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20221224-Afeyan-RedLeaf.htmlon gravel heaving sigh from its tree lost child reddened dream floating till a rake grates its skin piles of cousins neighbors strangers burst in flames silent ashes seed the snow coming soon coming down dusting the tears left on the tree stripped down naked awaiting spring beyond gray dreary morbid stinging memory yearning blended agony Bedros Afeyan Pleasanton, CA 11-5-2022 © Copyright 2022 Armenian News Network/Groong and the author.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20221217-Afeyan-Fragments.htmlSat, 17 Dec 2022 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20221217-Afeyan-Fragments.htmlWe are allowed fragments Fragments of happiness, stress, distress Fragments of arguments, retorts, refrains Fragments of shorelines, memories, holding hands Fragments of erections, welcoming inner embrace Fragments Midnight howls, traffic jams, thoughts dispersed, drenched Indeterminate, intermittent, interspersed, poisoned breath My things and your things and our things and their things Interminable, inexact, blaming the innocent, fetishizing fest Fragments Sheared off parcels of our existence stranded, stained Every ill will, every ill thoughthttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20221210-Kalayjian-InchLavE.htmlSat, 10 Dec 2022 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20221210-Kalayjian-InchLavE.htmlÿþ<�h�t�m�l� �x�m�l�n�s�:�v�=�"�u�r�n�:�s�c�h�e�m�a�s�-�m�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t�-�c�o�m�:�v�m�l�"� � �x�m�l�n�s�:�o�=�"�u�r�n�:�s�c�h�e�m�a�s�-�m�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t�-�c�o�m�:�o�f�f�i�c�e�:�o�f�f�i�c�e�"� � �x�m�l�n�s�:�w�=�"�u�r�n�:�s�c�h�e�m�a�s�-�m�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t�-�c�o�m�:�o�f�f�i�c�e�:�w�o�r�d�"� � �x�m�l�n�s�:�m�=�"�h�t�t�p�:�/�/�s�c�h�e�m�a�s�.�m�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t�.�c�o�m�/�o�f�f�i�c�e�/�2�0�0�4�/�1�2�/�o�m�m�l�"� � �x�m�l�n�s�=�"�h�t�t�p�:�/�/�w�w�w�.�w�3�.�o�r�g�/�T�R�/�R�E�C�-�h�t�m�l�4�0�"�>� � � � �<�h�e�a�d�>� � �<�m�e�t�a� �h�t�t�p�-�e�q�u�i�v�=�C�o�n�t�e�n�t�-�T�y�p�e� �c�o�n�t�e�n�t�=�"�t�e�x�t�/�h�t�m�l�;� �c�h�a�r�s�e�t�=�u�n�i�c�o�d�e�"�>� � �<�m�e�t�a� �n�a�m�e�=�P�r�o�g�I�d� �c�o�n�t�e�n�t�=�W�o�r�d�.�D�o�c�u�m�e�n�t�>� � �<�m�e�t�a� �n�a�m�e�=�G�e�n�e�r�a�t�o�r� �c�o�n�t�e�n�t�=�"�M�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t� �W�o�r�d� �1�5�"�>� � �<�m�e�t�a� �n�a�m�e�=�O�r�i�g�i�n�a�t�o�r� �c�o�n�t�e�n�t�=�"�M�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t� �W�o�r�d� �1�5�"�>� � �<�l�i�n�k� �r�e�l�=�F�i�l�e�-�L�i�s�t� �h�r�e�f�=�"�t�l�g�-�2�0�2�2�1�2�1�0�-�K�a�l�a�y�j�i�a�n�-�I�n�c�h�L�a�v�E�.�f�l�d�/�f�i�l�e�l�i�s�t�.�x�m�l�"�>� � �<�l�i�n�k� �r�e�l�=�E�d�i�t�-�T�i�m�e�-�D�a�t�a� �h�r�e�f�=�"�t�l�g�-�2�0�2�2�1�2�1�0�-�K�a�l�a�y�j�i�a�n�-�I�n�c�h�L�a�v�E�.�f�l�d�/�e�d�i�t�d�a�t�a�.�m�s�o�"�>� � �<�!�-�-�[�i�f� �!�m�s�o�]�>� � �<�s�t�y�l�e�>� � �v�\�:�� �{�b�e�h�a�v�i�o�r�:�u�r�l�(�#�d�e�f�a�u�l�t�#�V�M�L�)�;�}� � �o�\�:�� �{�b�e�h�a�v�i�o�r�:�u�r�l�(�#�d�e�f�a�u�l�t�#�V�M�L�)�;�}� � �w�\�:�� �{�b�e�h�a�v�i�o�r�:�u�r�l�(�#�d�e�f�a�u�l�t�#�V�M�L�)�;�}� � �.�s�h�a�p�e� �{�b�e�h�a�v�i�o�r�:�u�r�l�(�#�d�e�f�a�u�l�t�#�V�M�L�)�;�}� � �<�/�s�t�y�l�e�>� � �<�!�[�e�n�d�i�f�]�-�-�>� � �<�l�i�n�k� �r�e�l�=�t�h�e�m�e�D�a�t�a� �h�r�e�f�=�"�t�l�g�-�2�0�2�2�1�2�1�0�-�K�a�l�a�y�j�i�a�n�-�I�n�c�h�L�a�v�E�.�f�l�d�/�t�h�e�m�e�d�a�t�a�.�t�h�m�x�"�>� � �<�l�i�n�k� �r�e�l�=�c�o�l�o�r�S�c�h�e�m�e�M�a�p�p�i�n�g� � �h�r�e�f�=�"�t�l�g�-�2�0�2�2�1�2�1�0�-�K�a�l�a�y�j�i�a�n�-�I�n�c�h�L�a�v�E�.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20221203-Afeyan-KamaSutra.htmlSat, 03 Dec 2022 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20221203-Afeyan-KamaSutra.htmlMount, ride, dismount Mount, ride, dismount Catch your breath Sip some tea Jot down notes for Eventual illustrated memoirs Before you go right back mount, ride, screech, grunt, guttural sigh, dismount The night breeze erases the jumble Only poetry remains As a prickly trace of the half-hearted combat Combinations, distortions, strained bones and arches Between lust and lasting Thrusting and trusting Caring and stealing The fight and the fright A little deathhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220806-Afeyan-WhatIs.htmlSat, 06 Aug 2022 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220806-Afeyan-WhatIs.htmlWhat Is? Marvelous Metronomed Silent but traceable Ahead of its emotions calling Pushing for growth without panic A recipe discarded A new one forged in retrospect Panic Edit mercilessly Sink Swim Sigh Read Cross the finish line half naked, Parched, Still singing Ever painting Running shoes From reality Burning A poem A poem A poem Bedros Afeyan Pleasanton, CA 8-5-2022 © Copyright 2022 Armenian News Network/Groong and the author.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220709-Kalayjian-Gift.htmlSat, 09 Jul 2022 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220709-Kalayjian-Gift.htmlAs I sip on the gift of hope Just as the gift of love I realize that we are destined to be with each other Just like the ocean waves and the sand on the shore As I sip on the gift of faith Just as the gift of life I realize that no matter how much we are apart We are destined to touch each other gently Just as the leaves on the trees and the summer breezehttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220702-Afeyan-BluesOnBluesWas.htmlSat, 02 Jul 2022 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220702-Afeyan-BluesOnBluesWas.htmlÿþ<�h�t�m�l� �x�m�l�n�s�:�v�=�"�u�r�n�:�s�c�h�e�m�a�s�-�m�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t�-�c�o�m�:�v�m�l�"� � �x�m�l�n�s�:�o�=�"�u�r�n�:�s�c�h�e�m�a�s�-�m�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t�-�c�o�m�:�o�f�f�i�c�e�:�o�f�f�i�c�e�"� � �x�m�l�n�s�:�w�=�"�u�r�n�:�s�c�h�e�m�a�s�-�m�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t�-�c�o�m�:�o�f�f�i�c�e�:�w�o�r�d�"� � �x�m�l�n�s�:�m�=�"�h�t�t�p�:�/�/�s�c�h�e�m�a�s�.�m�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t�.�c�o�m�/�o�f�f�i�c�e�/�2�0�0�4�/�1�2�/�o�m�m�l�"� � �x�m�l�n�s�=�"�h�t�t�p�:�/�/�w�w�w�.�w�3�.�o�r�g�/�T�R�/�R�E�C�-�h�t�m�l�4�0�"�>� � � � �<�h�e�a�d�>� � �<�m�e�t�a� �h�t�t�p�-�e�q�u�i�v�=�C�o�n�t�e�n�t�-�T�y�p�e� �c�o�n�t�e�n�t�=�"�t�e�x�t�/�h�t�m�l�;� �c�h�a�r�s�e�t�=�u�n�i�c�o�d�e�"�>� � �<�m�e�t�a� �n�a�m�e�=�P�r�o�g�I�d� �c�o�n�t�e�n�t�=�W�o�r�d�.�D�o�c�u�m�e�n�t�>� � �<�m�e�t�a� �n�a�m�e�=�G�e�n�e�r�a�t�o�r� �c�o�n�t�e�n�t�=�"�M�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t� �W�o�r�d� �1�5�"�>� � �<�m�e�t�a� �n�a�m�e�=�O�r�i�g�i�n�a�t�o�r� �c�o�n�t�e�n�t�=�"�M�i�c�r�o�s�o�f�t� �W�o�r�d� �1�5�"�>� � �<�l�i�n�k� �r�e�l�=�F�i�l�e�-�L�i�s�t� �h�r�e�f�=�"�t�l�g�-�2�0�2�2�0�7�0�2�-�A�f�e�y�a�n�-�B�l�u�e�s�O�n�B�l�u�e�s�W�a�s�.�f�l�d�/�f�i�l�e�l�i�s�t�.�x�m�l�"�>� � �<�l�i�n�k� �r�e�l�=�E�d�i�t�-�T�i�m�e�-�D�a�t�a� � �h�r�e�f�=�"�t�l�g�-�2�0�2�2�0�7�0�2�-�A�f�e�y�a�n�-�B�l�u�e�s�O�n�B�l�u�e�s�W�a�s�.�f�l�d�/�e�d�i�t�d�a�t�a�.�m�s�o�"�>� � �<�!�-�-�[�i�f� �!�m�s�o�]�>� � �<�s�t�y�l�e�>� � �v�\�:�� �{�b�e�h�a�v�i�o�r�:�u�r�l�(�#�d�e�f�a�u�l�t�#�V�M�L�)�;�}� � �o�\�:�� �{�b�e�h�a�v�i�o�r�:�u�r�l�(�#�d�e�f�a�u�l�t�#�V�M�L�)�;�}� � �w�\�:�� �{�b�e�h�a�v�i�o�r�:�u�r�l�(�#�d�e�f�a�u�l�t�#�V�M�L�)�;�}� � �.�s�h�a�p�e� �{�b�e�h�a�v�i�o�r�:�u�r�l�(�#�d�e�f�a�u�l�t�#�V�M�L�)�;�}� � �<�/�s�t�y�l�e�>� � �<�!�[�e�n�d�i�f�]�-�-�>� � �<�l�i�n�k� �r�e�l�=�t�h�e�m�e�D�a�t�a� � �h�r�e�f�=�"�t�l�g�-�2�0�2�2�0�7�0�2�-�A�f�e�y�a�n�-�B�l�u�e�s�O�n�B�l�u�e�s�W�a�s�.�f�l�d�/�t�h�e�m�e�d�a�t�a�.�t�h�m�x�"�>� � �<�l�i�n�k� �r�e�l�=�c�o�l�o�r�S�c�h�e�m�e�M�a�p�p�i�n�g� � �h�r�e�f�=�"�t�l�g�-�2�0�2�2�0�7�0�2�-�A�f�e�y�a�n�-�B�l�u�e�s�O�n�B�l�u�e�s�W�a�s�.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220424-Afeyan-TwentyTwo.htmlSun, 24 Apr 2022 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220424-Afeyan-TwentyTwo.htmlApril of my life. April of my years. April in the sun, April in ashes gone She rode into moonlight, ghost of a village lost Her hair black and silky, tainted, torn, scalped Her flurry, her glory, humble obedient family Girl with a future. A whiff of freedom, esprit A new century, domestic skills a tyranny A slight hope, cracked hint, salvation, glee. In the evening, fires burn, dire screamshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220416-Davtyan-Haprank.htmlSat, 16 Apr 2022 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220416-Davtyan-Haprank.htmlԾովը տարածվում է մինչեվ հորիզոն. Մթնշաղի հետ Ոսկե մայրամուտը լոգանքի է մտնում Ցանկությունների գաղջ ջրերի մեջ։ Բնությունն է․ բնազդներն են․ Շնչասպառ են անում Գեղեցկությունների լույսերով․․․ Չէոր յուրաքանչյուր ցանկություն Իր հոմանուհուն է փնտրում արբունքի մահիճում, Որ մթնշաղն է զուգում Մենավորության ստվերում, Ուր երկուսն են միայն Եվ ծավալը սիրո ու գգվանքների․․․ Տենչերը փափկում են, Հասնում են հեռուներին, Ավելի՝ այն կողմերին, Հեթանոսական աստվածներին, Որ թույլատու են սրտազգաց մեղքերի հանդեպ։ Պահը ավելի երանավետ է․https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220409-Afeyan-Ringing.htmlSat, 09 Apr 2022 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220409-Afeyan-Ringing.htmlI am ringing the bells! Town Square! Decibels! Sirens of warning, they are selling Armenia off They are beaten, they are scared. A silly journalist by trade A walk of fame, selfie laden journey from Gumri A so-called revolution, fighting corruption But then? Chaos, lost wars, lost territory Artsakh sold to the Turks, Azeris, tyrants, lost Our history, our misery, our pain as Armenians Our demands for lost land, Kars, Ardahan, Erzerum, Van, Moush, …https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220105-Afeyan-Memory.htmlWed, 05 Jan 2022 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20220105-Afeyan-Memory.htmlWhat is it of and what is it to the collective hovering to engulf you? Memory is a sieve, sweeping in and away sediments Embellishing as it fills or empties, deforming as it surges To squeeze, infusing your thoughts with the wide flapping Canopy of others, their unescapable, unowned screams In the night stacks unknown, until pen meets silver paper, Records and rerecords in an order only a movie projectorhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20211229-Afeyan-Oars.htmlWed, 29 Dec 2021 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20211229-Afeyan-Oars.htmlHer aura, emergent, lured faith anchor Her mist, myth, glore, scent Her no’s, her don’ts Maybe, baby, maybe Docking trail dragging Oars in the sand Spicy dream dishes wilt in Supine, slanted complements Ejected sediment strands Coiled crumbs, sooth, soil Rowing away shadows A dune, a day, a dune, a day A sunset sonata for All oars in the sand Just oars, all sand. Bedros Afeyan 12-25-2021 Pleasanton, CA © Copyright 2021 Armenian News Network/Groong and the author.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20211201-Kalayjian-Always.htmlWed, 01 Dec 2021 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20211201-Kalayjian-Always.htmlCars full of metallic resolve with parallel columns of hope slice the darkness of the road into imperceptible geometric fragments. Pieces of blackness, chopped off from the deep starless sky aimlessly, yet menacingly, travel towards my windshield made of wet autumn leaves, they stick on the glass. The black gloom which I leave behind is waiting for the glistening reflection from a pair of loving, caring eyes for the magical sparkle of what was,https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20211128-Davtyan-Hayrikis.htmlSun, 28 Nov 2021 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20211128-Davtyan-Hayrikis.htmlՄաթեվոս Դավթյանին Դու իմ գլխին հովանավոր Արարատ ես, հայր, Ամպ ու զամպի դեմ ամրակուռ իմ վահանն ես, հայր: Երկրից երկիր թե զորք ելնեն ու բախվեն թափով, Դու պաշտպանն ես մեր տան հարկի, դու զորավար հայր: Կյանքի կռվում փոթորկալից ես կորած զինվոր, Բազկիդ թափը իմ թիկունքին` անհաղթ ուժ է հայր: Արդարությունն ու աշխատանքն են կենաց հիմքը, Քրտինքն արդար աշխատանքի ճակտիդ ծով է, հայր: Տանը, խաղաղ մեր հարկի տակ, նստել ենք հացի,https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20211207-Davtyan-Dencher.htmlSun, 28 Nov 2021 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20211207-Davtyan-Dencher.htmlՍիրաստանս, որ փռել եմ ոտքերիդ տակ, Նարգիսների լուսե լիճ է բուրումնավետ․ Ոսկեթեվիկ մեղվիկ դարձիր ճախրով զվարթ, Հերկիր լիճը ծաղկաստանիս շոյքով վետվետ։ Սերը սրտիս աղբյուր է հորդ, սառն ու զուլալ, Ցոլա մեջը երեկոյան աստղի հանգույն․ Կամ զեփյուռի շշունջ դարձիր հեվքով ծալ-ծալ Ու խառնվիր կարկաչիս հետ սիրազնգուն։ Լուռ գիշերվա թիթեռ դարձիր սրտիս մոմին, Որ համբույրիս բոցով խանձեմ թեվերդ նուրբ․ Ու թե ուզես՝ լուսին եղիր կապույտ վերին, Ես ամպացած կգրկեմ քեզ մահիճում լուրթ։https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20210424.htmlSat, 24 Apr 2021 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20210424.htmlDeranged uncultured, dirty toenails, praying five times a day Pious pretenders, underpaid armed mercenaries, MIT son-in-law flunkies Red blood flagbearer, dripping prophets, stolen tech, bombs guided drones Threats, drains, warfront profiteers, high above the sky, propped, dropped Bayrakdar drones killed 5000 of my countrymen in cold blood, Israel cheered on Georgia welcomed caravans of arms, Turkish convoys on the run, cooking skin alive Azeri war chants, frothing animals killing from the sky, surgically laughing at their crimeshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20210118.htmlMon, 18 Jan 2021 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20210118.htmlIt was on a Tuesday, or was it a Monday? Our shackles were no more, loose wrists, tongues, more The din high, patriotic slogans rose as morning bread Furnace of frustration bursting flames, fanfare fueled air Loudest of speeches seldom reach the truth buried in folded muck Frazzled by giants pounding our mountains, flying banners red or black We are just like them, not at all! Unique! Special! Blessed! Cursed!https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20201115.htmlSun, 15 Nov 2020 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20201115.html2500 Armenian soldiers sacrificed Mostly 18 year old recruits “We ought to win”Was the war slogan Ironic, engulfed in hubris Hyperbole, high praise, folly We had old tanks, Kalashnikovs and limited supplies They, an unlimited trove of kamikaze drones Made in Israel, electro-optically guided, swank Deadly killers, and Turkish drones too Made of EU and US parts, called Bayrakdar Turkish flag proudly brandished on their side Erdogan and Aliyev strutted their billion dollar bribes To hush the international press and pay for positive coverage The prostitutes of the world obliged.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200902.htmlWed, 02 Sep 2020 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200902.htmlHe stood unbound, brilliant booming pitch Daring fame’s too short a lease to tire An overworked Queen and a burst poet’s appendix orphaned Crazy uncles, old world advice, newspaper boy in Café’s Circulating telegraph messages on windy roads While genocide visited the Armenian Night He discovered San Francisco and New York Flustered wasps, street walkers, huddled denizens Gamblers, dancers, poor and burning Arabs, American foundation All the way up and down the Malaga vineshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200829.htmlSat, 29 Aug 2020 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200829.htmlԳՐԻՇ ԴԱՎԹՅԱՆ (Grish Davtian) Հիմա, որ հասկանում եմ ցավը, Ըմբռնու՛մ եմ Նվիրականությունն ու սրբությունը, Եվ չեմ հուսահատվում. Քանզի Զգացումներիս աստղերը, Որ աչքերիս լույսով են պսպղում Երկնքում Լուսավորում են ճամփան, Որով ընթանում եմ սիրահարված, Զգացումներով արբած, Հուսալիությամբ ամրացած։ Որպիսի~ ափունքներում եմ տեղավորվելու… Չէոր սերը անստվեր է Ու չի մթագնում սրտերը Թափթփված եզերքից եզերք, Հորիզոնից հորիզոն… Ես հիշում եմ այն թխադեմ տղային, Որ ծառերի ճնճղուկներին էր որսում Ճղլանիով. Որսում էր, Այլ չէր դատապարտումhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200816.htmlSun, 16 Aug 2020 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200816.htmlBeirut is not for grabs, for crabs or the sea monsters from the North Beirut is not Ottoman, nor an automatic toy to wind by neighbors Just for fun, for crime, for the howling of infants burning in the sun Beirut is not for Syrians, not for Kurds, not for Tanks and Radio Jamming rockets Of Southern friendly neighbors, nor for France and England to wipe their arses Ever so politely, sitting in cafés, spying on big Russian Bear or their Cowboy friendshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200808.htmlSat, 08 Aug 2020 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200808.htmlԱնցյալներ կան, որ Չեն վերադառնում Նույնիսկ հուշերում… Դու էլ երեվի դրանցից մեկն ես։ Սեվ բծի նման։ Ես գոհ եմ սրտանց, Որ սեվ բծի պես Էլ չես երեվում Իմ հիշողության սպիտակ էջում… ԳՐԻՇ ԴԱՎԹՅԱՆhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200802.htmlSun, 02 Aug 2020 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200802.htmlԱռաւօտեան արեւը ողողած էր պայծառ՛ կապոյտ Երկինքը՝ գործի մղող ջերմութեամբ: Մինչ սիրտդ, վիրաւոր թռչունի մը արիւնոտ Կուրծքին պէս կը բաբախէ յուսահատ: Ի՞նչ է այս ցաւը, որ դուն քեզի կու տաս Սիրոյ խաբկանք մը ունենալու համար, Որո՞ւն համար կը բաբախէ վիրաւոր թռչնակին Կեանքի համար կռուոծ սիրտը՝ Մինչ փետուրներուն վրայ իր արիւնը կը լերդանայ Ապրելու, սիրելու, սիրուելու կարօտով: Այս վէրքով չէ՞ որ մարդիկ հաւատք կը կերտեն, Իրենց ներաշխարհը յուսադրելու համար, Ու փարթամ տաճարներ կը կառուցեն աղօթելու,https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200801.htmlSat, 01 Aug 2020 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200801.htmlWaltz or pass a cradling caress Frown or prance, test in tenses past Thickest orchestral glorying Ghosts of war’s transmigrant memes Customs undressed, immolated, effaced Magical stitches, maddening wistful douleurs Panic pickled, swirling hemorrhaging Harmonic goose steps, stiffened spines Smiling boots glistening in Prussian violins Recidivist frivolity, for a grand dance or grosse pause Perturbed, blind soldiers hobbling past stretchers Kicking the contours, counting the dead Mustard gains Acid gargleshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200525.htmlMon, 25 May 2020 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200525.htmlRocks in a garden, isolation, invocation Rocks in a garden, sizes, shapes, colors Gray in intent, rocks in a garden, huddled Yet sparse, mutually repelling, poke marked Aged agents, crazed edges, sharp chirped tones Rocks in a garden where birds streak white tales Birds of all colors, shapes, sizes, rocking in a garden We age inside the house, far from the garden, glass covers Windows and curtains, pots and pans, cats and bowlshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200517.htmlSun, 17 May 2020 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200517.htmlMan is wolf, when sheep read Prepared texts on teleprompters Prepare meals for TV consumption While wolves howl at the wind of time The chimes of crime The hives of beards and knives Dancing to West Side Story remakes In broad daylight. Man is wolf in the dark hours of the soul Hidden promise of a bullet launched in an eye socket For Dali to melt into the framework of trains run on timehttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200424.htmlFri, 24 Apr 2020 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20200424.htmlThese things I shall do. Sing in Armenian. Think in arguments undreamt by non-Armenians. Do good and throw proceeds into the sea Never look back, nor look beyond that sea Look up to the North Star and show it the way Never hesitate to seize the matter by the throat Of the reverse argument’s crushing counterattack Planned the night before, but easy breezy till the stroke. Laugh hardily and often for tragedy is written in our starshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20191231.htmlTue, 31 Dec 2019 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20191231.htmlՈրքան ալ հրեշտակային ըլլան իմ սիրոյ երազանգները Ծիածաններէ գունազարդ ըլլան իմ զգացումներու երանգները Նորածին ծիածանի շողերով փայլին և ջերմացնեն իմ սիրոյ խոսքերը Մայրամուտի մելամաղցոտ ամչկոտութեամբ կարմրին իմ այտերը Տակաւին ես չեմ արտօներ որ լեզուս արտայայտէ այդ զգացումները: Ես իրաւունք չունիմ խանագարելու տիեզերքի հաւասակշռութիւնը Ես ո՞վ եմ որ քարուքանդ դարձնեմ կարուցուած հաւատքները, Ի՞՜նչ անձնակործան մեղանչանքներով նոր ծրագիրներ մշակեմ Մոլորակներու և անհատներու կեանքը խանգարեմ Իմ սէրը կը մնայ համբերող, ներող, հասկացող, օգնող, սպասող:https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20190623.htmlSun, 23 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20190623.htmlԱհաւասիկ էջերու տրցակ մը եւս Որ տակաւին չէ գործածուած Փոռձարութիւններ, ապրումներ Տակաւին չեն արձանագրուած Ինծի և քեզի պէս . . . զգացուած Սէրեր որ անծնունդ են մնացած Հրաբխային սրտերու մէջ սանձուած Անթափանց բարութեամբ ծածկուած Ես այս տետրակները ու՞ր պահեմ Որ յանկարծ չգրուած բառերը չերեւին Չ՛արձանագրուած միտքերը իյայտ չգան Չ՛արտասանուած խօստումները յիրաւի Չ՛իրականանան . . . Գէորգ Գալայճեանhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20190616.htmlSun, 16 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20190616.htmlThere is no more poetry Love left no traces in memory It is impossible to be funny Cynicism has deformed sensitivity Sex has replaced sensuality It’s all transformed to lack of care Viewed in the silhouette of body Listen to the conversational melody. Wait! What’s that fly doing there? Why does it fly in the middle of This hospital, white, clean room? As I was saying, There is no more poverty Love has mortgaged memory Caring has been overwhelmed by sensitivity Instincts have overpowered sensuality By reflecting kindness and care Portrayed as a stuffed animal, a Teddy Bear!https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20190202.htmlSat, 02 Feb 2019 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20190202.htmlWe Interrupt This Program And so I wrote, aimless in my search Rummaged in the attic of equuuations Disciplined trails of prepositions Unsolicited expositions of windy woes The quatrain roams in the midday sun Manhattan There is honking with that train Son The bustle, cold slap, fuck you muttered, Garlic breath, shit stick shoes remarked A book under the armpit of Sun Life Building a future rampart orgy death maskhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20181231.htmlMon, 31 Dec 2018 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20181231.htmlԵթէ բառերով փորձեմ սրտիս ու հոգւույս զգացումները արտայայտել քեզի, Անիմաստ ու անհասկնալի բացատրութիւններու շարադրանք մը պիտի լսուի: Եթէ յուսամ որ աչքերուս խօսածը լսես՝ կամ նայուացքներէս ինչ որ բան հասկնաս Յաւիտենական սպասումը՝ վատնուած վարկեաններու կուտակումով պիտի կորսուի: Ներէ ինծի որ այս ճշմարտութիւնը չեմ կարող խօստուանիլ ոերեւէ մէկի և այսպէս ես իմ կեանքը կը շարունակեմ միայն խաբելով ես ինծի: Կը շարունակեմ աշխատիլ, ջանալով օգտակար դառնալ ըստ կարիքի Մաքրամաքուր բարոյականութեամբ նժարը պահել բարութեան կողմինhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20180607.htmlThu, 07 Jun 2018 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20180607.htmlNew Armenia, old hat, walking stick, frown, fret. New Armenia, bragging high, singing low, waves waving us ahead New Armenia, not a drop of blood shed, not a tear, not a threat Civilized in discipline, New Armenia full of freedom from terror, friend Not Mother Russia, nor Oligarchs on parade, brothers and sisters nesting the precious egg Nesting for the groong’s return, hoot in joy, the group-dance, the flame, the Hayr Mer.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20180424.htmlTue, 24 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20180424.htmlArmenian songs sad and strong Shielded landmarks, mountains cropped Fierce freedom pooled in lakes of reasoned chords Birds bearing witness, melancholy drones Joyous village dancers and wedding drums Huddled stoves, early morning bread’n prayers Rising hope, horizon’s keys sharp and fair Jump into the fire set by the strangers Their’s is but a false prophet of death or dispair Armenian songs sad and strong Give life to magic mountains Where future lovers never quarrel But yearn to weave their soft tales home Stones bearing crosses to the bone A language born in wit’s own poem To glimpse eternal flames As love casts its shadows blue In Armenian songs sad and stronghttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20170424.htmlMon, 24 Apr 2017 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20170424.htmlSoul of my nation, fragile as summer day is long April horses drag cannons to pieces in desert scorn Womb of song, toil, tilled to perfection, cranial masquerade Bloody tents, raped prayers, our books torn in limb and page Scream an unvoiced anger, in a treeless forest, where one hand slaps Ringing rage through kingdoms lost in coins of the peering realm Massacre the helpless children covered in their mother’s urine stains Crosses across their chests beaten by scimitars in phallic contrabandhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20160424.htmlSun, 24 Apr 2016 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20160424.htmlThere is a House in the Highlands of Armenia, high above the howl of minions Turkish dogs scent mark its stone chiseled crevices and cracks, occupants unknown The house runs red, sometimes ashen, brown, sorrow dancing circles on its crown Carved noses, chins, hunched over caravans, invisible but in ink and salt stains Soft moan of orphans, headscarves covering sex identifying scars, tattooed as cattle Survival is a reed hanging from tall odds, beckoning the learned, become nomads They admire Germans and discipline, offering Doner Kekab scented Deutsche Marks Europe sears explosions in hate and envy, mad dogs of past glory reeked, bells runghttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20150424.htmlFri, 24 Apr 2015 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20150424.htmlOh longing, grass flown by, buzzed rotors clanking, modern wreck Oh, sunshine, fading chromosomes wailing through a night’s blight Orange muff, winter stark teleportation, is union station closed shut? Moved by this anachronic denial spiral of long leaved mustache slashed Billed as men of religion, of pride bursting away in reflections slighted They dance on our graves and spank their destinies with feathers flocked They bounce their checks and babies on our knees bleeding against rocks Infinite regress mindless hedonic whip slit skulls rolling down fez pools Progress toward the jungle of creviced kink self-chest-plucked beatings Progress with bulging guile, without regret, planning the next falling mass Killing is easy when echoes die young.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20140329.htmlSat, 29 Mar 2014 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20140329.html“I wait for you still, as if you could arrive” “You Have Not Died” Vahan Derian 1 The trees wombs of wind and sound that find me poised this hour to rip out a - I love you i am falling from these hills searching meadows for your- I thought i saw you this evening it was just dark the mountains brief the cool air gathering in pools of wind we might runhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20140322.htmlSat, 22 Mar 2014 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20140322.htmlOver there all that happened (and didn’t happen) folded packed in mental mothballs stories fading with licked creases some reduced to softer versions wonder why I preserve breaths forced through my lungs in those days stringed around the eye of a hurricane circling, demonic, nameless… shaking me till I’m shameless for a day on nights with a collective sigh stinging and I can’t tell which tale will toll for me and which nocturnal howls to lift the dust through endless times to relive in slivers of a pink tip of my tongue afraid to bite a dreamt memory that it might hemorrhage bleed the sheets of nighthttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20140315.htmlSat, 15 Mar 2014 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20140315.htmlI’d heard a lot about you from your mother when I was married to her in the States. I’d heard stories about how, when you were a little girl, your father had abandoned the two of you and how he was the devil. Since I divorced your mom years ago I’ve understood what a storyteller she is and I question her versions of everything. But you told me yourself that in front of you when you were young, she attempted suicide.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20140308.htmlSat, 08 Mar 2014 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20140308.htmlOh, how I would love to see Armenians Free, safe, educated, and self-sufficient Every Armenian’s home, paradise on earth should be… But this shouldn’t require a sacrifice from me. Oh, how I would loved for Armenia to be Freed from the hands of the enemy, Armenian rulers governing the Armenian country… As long as this aim doesn’t cost me a penny. Oh, how I wish for all Armenian to be Rekindled with the love of science, and discovery For once and for all eliminate illiteracy Only if, no commitment is required of me.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20140301.htmlSat, 01 Mar 2014 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20140301.htmlFirst, they take away father. They return the same evening And take away his belongings: His clothes, his shoes, his stories and songs. Mother does not know how to resist the intruders And consoles us with fractured sentences, With words shattered into jagged-edged syllables Like the family photographs hurled Onto the grand mirror in the hall. The tall man wearing the unfamiliar hat Parts the lull of the next afternoon With measured strides.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20140222.htmlSat, 22 Feb 2014 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20140222.htmlBeirut’s orgy in 18 confessions, Olé! Screamed and drowned Tom Jones served the Hummus near the pools of private clubs Orange crush between their legs, teenagers practiced re-innocence Dreams of heeled yachts, Monaco and Royal blow, effervescent geist Beneath the soil of imported champagne corked in a clown’s red nose Beyond the camps ’n hated enemies and jealous friend’s smiles sardonic Lurked world-stage trade-craft, spy vs spy groping public monkey bars Every prostitute, every little star, humping Roman Ruins, midsummer orchestrashttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20131214.htmlSat, 14 Dec 2013 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20131214.htmlDearest comrade, when you arrive some day To gaze upon my tomb, And scattered all around it see Bright flowers in freshest bloom, Think not that they are ordinary flowers at your feet thus born, Or that Spring has brought them here My new home to adorn. They are my songs unsung, which must Within my heart but hide; They are words of love left Unuttered when I died. They are ardent kisses, my dear, Sent from that world unknown, The path to which before you lies, Blocked by this tomb alone!https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130727.htmlSat, 27 Jul 2013 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130727.htmlApril skies, covert layers in pale blue. She’s drawn. Weight of mass graves shackled by her tongue. She stretches, digs into cerulean Scratches past dressed skin, ninety eight springless blue. Brown blood fingernails, air with air spread tasteless on Deir-ez-zor sand shifting, burning heaps of bones Her eyes, deny their hands, stained with Armenian blood scrubbing a black sky never to pale blue…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130713.htmlSat, 13 Jul 2013 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130713.htmlMy grandfather turns quiet when hearing about death The inexplicable Dragging its cloak across our ancient rug Distracting dust and careless things The mundane work The house, The family, The television news, Our garden, his trees And people Who pass away at noon. My grandfather is watering the quince tree And salt has dried the crust of stranger things Harsher still the sky is getting blue A bruise on the skin of God We penetrate the window, watching our granddad Pulling out the weeds with his perceptive hands Afraid to spill the soil Devouring the light, his silver hair Disquieting the things that are to come.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130629.htmlSat, 29 Jun 2013 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130629.htmlOutside, desert air licks tents with an icy tongue, creeping under pegs unto the sand floor, where she waits morning, legs squeezed, trembling tight. Her mother’s warm breath with a hint of onion and lentil smell brushes on her face, calms tremor of awake nightmares, her sister’s knees dig into the small of her back. She tucks her cold feet under her aunt’s ample buttocks, finds comfort and safety in the call of unwashed bodies, familiar, earthy, sweat of family in deep disturbed sleep on worn beige mattresses pressed side by side.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130608.htmlSat, 08 Jun 2013 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130608.htmlI prayed The rounded hills Were bare And breathed of warmth and sorrow Someone Was licking, humming, weeping on the soil Deo tentatur, Deus enim intentator malorum est I discharged my soul and stroked its surface The hills were smoothed of trees I searched my pockets For the mustard seed God promised rain, God promised mud and growth Then someone kissed and licked my soul, anointing it with myrrhhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130511.htmlSat, 11 May 2013 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130511.htmlHUMAN PARTS By Michael E. Stone Buses bombed and human parts Towers bombed and human hearts spread, sprayed, and scattered. Men unknown by men unknown. How halt this hatred darkness of fanatics crazy in their attics cellars stinking and dungeons of the soul all black? Darken glimmers false enlightenment, self-deception “this is what God wants, or history wants, or the nation’s spirit wants.” If God wants this, I want not Him.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130420.htmlSat, 20 Apr 2013 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130420.htmlWITHOUT THE BOMBS OF BEIRUT Without the bombs of Beirut, there was but sun Flooding bank vaults of time, pairs offered shine Beaches, heels, shaved legs and gum, sizzling sun Mountains a’snow, goggles ’n poles, untormented sons Beirut’s orgy in 18 confessions, Olé! Screamed and drowned Tom Jones served the Hummus near the pools of private clubs Orange crush between their legs, teenagers practiced re-innocence Dreams of heeled yachts, Monaco and Royal blow, effervescent geisthttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130329.htmlFri, 29 Mar 2013 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130329.htmlMUSE By Silva Zanoyan Merjanian She’s in between poems you wrote in your sleep between madness and euphoria in your dreams she’s between lips brushed on her breath’s skin between fingerprints you kissed on your sheets she’s between moans of the night and sunrise between notes of Beethoven rolling down your tongue she’s between tuned strings of a cellist on canvas in between shades of sunflowers and iris she’s laughter, snagged between your metronome beats she’s in between an ocean and a sky on its kneeshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130309.htmlSat, 09 Mar 2013 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20130309.htmlDash out in long steps, grandma, run, don’t turn back, they are there, run, they’re watching you; to the other side, pretend, now pretend, don’t scream, who would help you now if it’s only you they have to play?; ease off that thing inside, be patient, they are only bodies threatening you, guarding you, only bodies squashing and pecking. Like a slave without a master who no more implores you, who has nobody nothing left to pray, be patient and forget; soon the last one will be at bay, finally squeezed, the last one and you’ll be dead.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20120421.htmlSat, 21 Apr 2012 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20120421.htmlApril is the deadliest month unscented, unchimed Bottom welled, marching winds, tearing pages History sanded, blackened red, baked, desert cake Crystal ball darn yarn, music festers, tragedy pounds For they got away, got away they think, clean hands atremble A thousand lies carpet cover our millenial blood lines Progress thunders, defezed, Europa, opa, donner kebab Cannibals, semaphores, taunts, threats, honor gulped fang clubs Their helicopters whiz dream swift attacks, Greece, Cyprus Kurdistan, Bulgaria, Armenia their flag could further rape Civilized society serves measured scorn, coffee, demitasse Just invent invention, damned truth, talent, toil of othershttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20111008.htmlSat, 08 Oct 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20111008.htmlI am unable to tell you The passing scenes, the car’s window Leaving behind that day That night 4 am That letter about a mist That covered a village They had to flea to the top of the hill To see the setting sun Rise Rise for me, moon… Two mouths can feel The colors of tea And the moon seams halved And I always wondered why you scratch above your left brow When you’re thinking Deep Between the humming oaks I saw The tea cool And the villagers went home The mist was gone The night was warm.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20111001.htmlSat, 01 Oct 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20111001.htmlHow does an unbeliever pray? Yet I do. Some know God in halogen-bright blinding white light with black, black shadows. But I see grey. ‘Glory to God for dappled things’, for unclarities ambiguities complexities all, for greys. He will be one with His name: God’s wholeness then. But ours? – Michael Stone is Professor of Armenian Studies at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. He has published poetry in Ararat, Avocet, Byline Magazine, Hazmat Review, King Log, Mandrake Poetry Review, Ruah, White Heron, ARC, and Voices Anthology.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110924.htmlSat, 24 Sep 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110924.htmlStemming endless desire to see the sun, fan, cuddle Rays thrust in folds of petals thick in envy, dazzle Seeds of oil and industry, thick green rooted pride armies Worshiping arching god, gazing craned necks, offering unison Their love for bask parades, flasked tirades for silent baths A wild wind surrender, evaporating storm drilled clouds Through their lover’s piercing spectral bouquet of photons Cyclic summer long romance, enraged seed packshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110911.htmlSun, 11 Sep 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110911.htmlHe wrote to sail away 30,000 puffs of air Unattached frame or basis Pleas of comfort, salient cheer Food, drink, menus naming chefs Recycle movies, swiveling baby screens Reclined outsize seat, business classed Pillows, blankets, cookie crumbs dans l’air Metal reinforced door to cockpit Stewardess, sparing in self-defense Sweating rubber bullets with the rest Citizens flash lapel flags Recovered hollowed lives Falling Hollywood stampedes Shoes in trays stuff x-ray machines Check their cheeks, few paces each to each Hand-held metal detected Warning buzzers, chirps, beeps Flashing lights snaking floorshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110910.htmlSat, 10 Sep 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110910.htmlI always wondered what Carla liked to do when she was young, especially on that day as we sat in this seemingly abandoned tea-house in the middle of Chinatown. A short old Chinese man bowed to us when we asked for the menu and rushed behind the counter. About 5 seconds later he brought us two thick red cardboards in Chinese with the English names of the teas handwritten next to the Chinese ones.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110903.htmlSat, 03 Sep 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110903.htmlVosdanig, alone with your stained canvas Studio walls receding, madness, full gallop Easels creak to honking horns, Whooping Cranes Half-drunk tubes, steep step fallen, hairy brush lagoons Cezanne enters, pitied peaches, pirouetted pears Matisse, prince of breasts, bottoms smiling almost colorless Picasso, rearrange burning eyes, needles, crimes, cradles Pablo so enriched with each female receptacle And you return to the canvas, exhausted Mother and sister whispering up ahead Horse’s hooves, Turkish death march, spring 1915 dance Silence, pause, silence, breathhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110827.htmlSat, 27 Aug 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110827.htmlOne I address directly. such providential realism is not mine. liturgy, though, has its own rhythm. familiar service, words soothe the soul. suddenly, meaning strikes home, pierces the heart! let the pattern of words then, known, loved, carry us and, if we are lucky, every now and then focus in a different way, sharp, impelling, shock. 30 April, 2010https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110820.htmlSat, 20 Aug 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110820.htmlOn a doorstep sits a aging glance drummed with two stretched shopping bags Cat licked stringed morsels, forgotten regrets Her gaze barely ever rises above the knees of passers by never stretching, pretending, striving wading through decaying mud baths of laughter from hurried lives sometimes her eyes do meet their stares past innocent chirping children, leashed parents who bare venom doused contempt, no pocket change we should sit as one and make of it a day, you and I tell me of children you bore, perhaps were forced to gave awayhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110813.htmlSat, 13 Aug 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110813.htmlSo one day, as me and the wonderful Miss Carla Vanamo were walking through Central Park on a promising humid still day, I swallowed my doubts and asked her with caution. -Have you ever been married? The feather on Carla’s fedora hat flicked back and forth ever so politely, as she passed through and greeted the New York air. Her gaze looking straight on, a strict smirk and the world’s best dark eyebrows.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110528.htmlSat, 28 May 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110528.htmlMorning bark, open keyboard drummed Still night gown, slippers, hearing aid Ludwig’s fingers chase away echoes, traces Avenging ivory, disappointing romance Sequin phrases murmured, murdered, recast Pedals, smoke, ten finger contradictions A pause, a caress, a smile, a push A quarrel, a threat, a growling retreat Second movement tendresse Angry memory machine, restless moons Serenade to reorder carousels Misunderstood gestures, promises Stern Germanic rebukes Ah, Ludwig, how you shower The haze of notes transgressant Detached perfume, home brewed Reacting on you skin, burning A warming glow tracing five lines Fenced second movement’s finale Seductive aspirational gloomhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110430.htmlSat, 30 Apr 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110430.html-There’s something bothering you. I can tell… Miss Carla Vanamo, 60, was sipping her scotch, looking at me with her heavy eyes, with legs in male shoes crossed and posed with such delicate feminine strength that you’d never think it’s possible to be that great. I was perplexed, staring into my cinnamon apple tea, and looked up at her, surprised. -What? Oh… er… no, I’m ok. -Nothing is that simple in life.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110423.htmlSat, 23 Apr 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110423.htmlBRAIDS OF PRIDE By Bedros Afeyan No country of no man can do but swallow No woman of any breadth can envy or endure In our natures, killers or survivors Little Turkeys who peck the meek, deformed to death And once started can not stop pecking till all are dead In our nature, little Turkeys, we too would kill or could so dare But for domestication, commercialization Fear of deities more hollow Than a desert freeze, a midnight owl’s stare And we are done, our myths imploded Our piss no longer runs, our heads are bowed and hung.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110416.htmlSat, 16 Apr 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110416.htmlDoesn’t notice when I walk into the room. She’s focusing her scrutiny on the lab technician. (He’s taking pictures of her, she’ll tell me later, and this, to her, is suspicious.) He says “You have a visitor.” She talks to him, in Armenian. “This is my daughter’s daughter.” Looking into her eyes, squinting and unsmiling, I feel as though I’ve betrayed her. We’ve all betrayed her. She’s helpless here. At her house, she’s the boss.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110409.htmlSat, 09 Apr 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110409.html1, 2, 3, Tap, tap, tap I heard your steps, in the darkness, in the yard. I hid my little body under my duvet pretending to sleep in quiet. You walked inside and lit the light, then stood patiently Called me in tender drops. I rose my head above the bed. I looked at you standing there with your tiny body and braided hair with an apron around your waist like a servant serving her head?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110226.htmlSat, 26 Feb 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110226.htmlWe live the joyous outbursts of energy in the death march of an ancient civilization as we see our language decay, we justify our laziness with the examples of lost cultures. our books are stored in storage boxes waiting to be exhibited by museums where our shame is sheltered, sealed within the walls of fear of being different! It was so easy to overcome organized persecution, segregation religious intolerance, and color differentiation, all those were a breeze compared to the government organized race annihilation, the definite death in the unending desert sand, but we don’t care to find out how to overcome this new threat This new partition, based on the ability to spend cash on Berger King, Pizza and movies, or charging our future on such classy items as, Four Seasons, Disney’s, health spas, or searching connections with jazz, rap, or Yo Yo Ma.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110219.htmlSat, 19 Feb 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110219.htmlAgaetis Byrjun (A New Beginning) The thick crimson scarf, the traffic, her clicking boots, the headphones and all the rush. Delila’s going somewhere. ‘I’m on my way’, she says on the phone and walks briskly through the cold and the thick city noise. Sebastien’s studio is in a geometrically firm, white building, first floor. She rings the doorbell. She does not know yet that he prefers it when people knock. The anticipation of someone opening the door rises the senses, makes her vulnerable, uneasy, a bit awkward and still not sure why she is there.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110108.htmlSat, 08 Jan 2011 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20110108.htmlTranslated by Nairi Hakhverdi I am leafing through my travel notes and between the pages I find two leaves of marjoram, dry and gray like extinguished ash. I lean over the page and my nostrils flare at the scent of marjoram and I leaf the journal tremblingly… Then I take the whip, which is tight as a braid, off the wall. I stroke the whip and Tsolak looks at me with sagacious eyes.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101218.htmlSat, 18 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101218.htmlA straightforward, modest book, stands proudly alongside jewelled, gold-crusted treasures made for bishops and kings. Sewn with twine, and bound with leather over wooden boards, lovingly. Copied in a village church by a priest, for love of God, in black, blocky letters by stylus in carbon ink on thick stiff yellow paper laid and polished by hand. A note by a reader three centuries ago, records a memorial for his soul, and that of his dead mother.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101204.htmlSat, 04 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101204.htmlA brush on fire scented origami Traces stroke hinder and dry Swallowed pigment serenades Shining whispers in their descent Pride of porpoise, flight in candor Brittle dragons enterprised in shells Colors rewrite our love affairs Stroked brushes erase despair All trains stop, planes hover in rage Last record players spin up into space A canvas bed for stories, trays, roots mingle for glorious framing allures Of medium change the message coos Irreversible, irreconcilable Served in a Dorian Gray balloonhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101127.htmlSat, 27 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101127.htmlIt’s not a knife on cold sheets, angled profiles through the thick handle; promises of limits. With no purpose always damp, pulsing. If it were a knife it’d keep standing on what resists it. If it were, I would then clean it, and putting it away, would not remember. As knives can not remember. If it were, every time my hands are in that pocket, I would feel it say “here it is, now yes, oh you couldn’t, but try!https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101120.htmlSat, 20 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101120.htmlFields of Autumn Yellow (so striking it feels capitalized), rock outcropping excrescences, avenues of pylons marching like marionettes across the hills. black clouds on a screen of bright sky threaten 2 yellow and black sunshade umbrellas, odd static wasps on one foot like cranes. Fall, fall, fall yellow fall. October 2010https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101113.htmlSat, 13 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101113.htmlI see you, its sudden Going to work in a frosted car. You look salty, it is morning. if I touch your line, will you vanish and dissolve into heaven Like sugar in served tea? So finally you’re sweet. Your earthy feet shed time and space are the same color as my eyes… For a moment the air embraces your blue, So you turn pink in shame, Such an astonishing, beautiful shame…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101106.htmlSat, 06 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101106.html(Far Be My Ararad) As solid as Ararad, as flow bound an Armenian As permanent an Ararad, a slope of despair seduces each of us As snow covered and majestic as Ararad, every Armenian forehead, Throbbing forefathers etched in crossed lines that sing of life elsewhere. Life elsewhere, where Ararad is ours, where Ararad never Splays vigilance, and can slip or sleep. Ararad instead, must shed and shed each spring, winter harvest snow, Magistrate, fools in loss and love, each last one of us, an Ararad untouched.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101030.htmlSat, 30 Oct 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20101030.htmlWhen I tried to conquer the secret of friendship, warmth and understanding, -its love- I was told -and it’s too demanding it needs nurturing, it needs attention, you have to give up some ideals here, sacrifice preferences, reshuffle your goals earthly or otherwise, and must concentrate on loving the flower you choose-. I went to the rose, which was vibrant and wild, her fragrance was uncommon, and her touch was magical, and she asked me if I could love her, “just a little bit”, and I asked her, if she could love me, just a little bit.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100828.htmlSat, 28 Aug 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100828.htmlMetals and gems focus power Gold – red, yellow and white, amber’s eye, alabaster, turquoise from mines in Sinai, black smoky obsidian from volcano’s hearts. Blue saphires; and black opals bring bad luck.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100821.htmlSat, 21 Aug 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100821.htmlWind spirits, will you shutter me? I am a thoughtless cloud Cream-colored, I disrupt And smash against indigoes To turn blue pale Like the betweenness of these hills. My reclusion- but a weed In twisted forests With unknown remedies (We shall cure bewilderment). Ahead of time and spaces Between the vivid stars That stare, frozen From the palms of God, I look And question their existence, And in the end We turn unusually real.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100731.htmlSat, 31 Jul 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100731.htmlAnd the other blood which does not – run, which smells of acid of women whose blood does not – run. The suture of their legs, Its sharp stiffness, in morsels mutilated invisible on the sand, on the sand to the sea, to the sea that swallows ships; on the sand of exile dissolving drinking jars with moles, and the air stays overcast, concave, shovelfuls to inhale, pushing dragging shabby dresses of women whose blood does not – run.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100710.htmlSat, 10 Jul 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100710.htmlWhen the sound of the wheels of the train echoed in my ears, I heard a Rachmaninoff concerto exhibiting its influence and power. A microphone translated its implications, presenting me with a transcript. Then station to station, I fooled myself into denying the music as a feint. But no feint found me that day or later as I conjugated ambition to follow such vital notes. Difficult, yes. Difficulty plays instruments, conjugates many verbs, builds viable languages.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100703.htmlSat, 03 Jul 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100703.htmlI Red flowers in Russell Square Dogs in Russell Square Some as big as sheep Special red bins for dog poop As red as the postboxes and the telephone booths. II Chaos of polychrome people hurrying by before the hotel English girls with short skirts and heels, Moslem girls with kerchiefs Men in suits or short sleeved shirts or knitted shirts and knee shorts.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100619.htmlSat, 19 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100619.htmlI’ve come to hold sadness in my hands To walk a thousand miles in the hottest desert. Drink not water. My feet swollen and bruised. Bloody. I’ve come to see the face of great-grandmother. We have the same dark eyes. We have the same scraped soul. We bear the same name. There is no escaping. She’s in me. She’s in me. In my last moments of life, I want to release the sadness.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100612.htmlSat, 12 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100612.htmlThere can be but one answer, one easel, one lessened To extract one swirl, one splotch, one patch of heaven In an eye, a rectum, a floating nose, hazed, dribbling, drained There can be no answer after the dada denials of denials of genocides and reason There can be but paint and weight and shine and light from giant inlets for morning Worship, if the rains and clouds could but bother competing NY artists Stilted drivers, a new search for sense, after Hiroshima, after Hitler, Stalin, famine, avarice, the depression, public works, roller coaster ridden Bullet holes in worship temples of paint, thick, vibrant, mixing, melt.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100529.htmlSat, 29 May 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100529.htmlBark one Bark two Bark three Darting dots in silent sentences of the night Like darker mulberries On the mulberry tree of Nalbandyan 7, 2:40 am. Alas All this air can do Is stare in silence… Its eyes touch so softly That my mind obeys And lays itself down On a constant stream of dreams… Bark one Bark two Bark three You know? There are Buried deep Twisted, gnarled, soggy Roots of angels Who have chosen to become trees And make Oxygen Yet not prudence… Silence and insanity, friend Are born when we come detached And attached again And again In us, through us, towards Nowhere else but Predictability Simple and charming: And it is predictable, Father That during nights I write Instead of sleeping And slipping into hymns So that insanity would remain Subconscious And quiet Like the mulberry night tree On Nalbandyan 7, 2:50 AM.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100424.htmlSat, 24 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100424.htmlSHE WITHOUT A DAUGHTER By Ana Arzoumanian Dash out! Using large steps, grandma, run!… No turning back, they are coming, run, they are upon you; go to the other side, pretend, now pretend, don’t scream, who would help you now? if it’s just you they have to play; ease off that thing inside, be patient, they are just bodies threatening you, guarding you, just bodies squashing and pressing. Like a slave without a master who implores you not to who has nobody to pray to be patient and try to forget; soon the last one will be resting, spent finally, the last one and you’ll have died each time too.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100417.htmlSat, 17 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100417.htmlPaper cuts from books as thick as his lips As gapped and gashed as his teeth His curly hair, Medusa rendered quatrains, airs Uninvited village crier smile, apologetic Defiant, untrue in magnitude but Blue in spirit, ethos gardens in pungent parapente. I read the words, so aware of other words unsaid Sevag’s piercing smoke rings dance in Mashdots’ band Barouir repatriating anger, not centrally planned solace When ghosts sing in riddles, nightmares cued, reverberate.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100410.htmlSat, 10 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100410.htmlInfinity it is And I have nothing Even inspirations that untie To flutter Between fireflies and lampposts Sidewalks and dim clouds Trees and empty bottles Drift into air So that I can Inhale And while I hold my breath I can write symphonies in motion. But Lord, I could be bounded in a nutshell And count myself king But instead I Wash the feet of existence And indulge My owning of nothing in anything at all.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100320.htmlSat, 20 Mar 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100320.htmlWhy are you here Listening to these repetitions Of rhyme, rhythm, and roar Oscillating music of Imperfect monotones Mesmerizing, hypnotizing and Capturing, no captivating you with Deception and titillating vision # Emancipating your imagination From this boring stuff, which helps you see The excellence in the reader before me, The fantastic in the performer after me. Yet you focus on the walls, the ceiling, the tablecloth As they tell you all the secrets hidden in time Observed and recorded from different angles From different ages # fanatical outbursts on the run.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100206.htmlSat, 06 Feb 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100206.htmlUrge to create, to merge and purge Madness, Fever rendered, heartbeat Shorn, breath a’tremor, lunging Emptiness meets mid-progress Disturb chaos, chaotically kneaded Create a lighthouse, spread thin in rows Wondering words diffuse in an endless field Leaf trails seeped in sorrow, blind, stunned stares Loneliness alley pulped, swallowed Famished thirst, sprinkle this cracking dryness With wet, pulsing words Let order transmute distant murmurs For you to crave and rave in chaotic dreams The next salvo in invisible love’s mortarhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100130.htmlSat, 30 Jan 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100130.htmlI remember you once told me That they sit In strange, gauche poses Bringing comfort Only To bewildered rooftops On the purple universe… Dampness We slurp dampness from the midnight trees That become stunned clouds Above And forget to snow (It is only me, dear Wind Listening in you…) We can be like cello strings Trembling for music And when fingers touch We’ll stare At those passing strangers. They are here for just one night Whistling a tune about The selected snowflakes on the eyelashes of God.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100123.htmlSat, 23 Jan 2010 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20100123.htmlIn the mountains of Lebanon, high stands of cedars, majestic green witnesses, a thousand years silent but still 2,000 years younger than those felled by Hiram, Solomon’s royal friend, floated to Jaffa and worked by Tyrrian carpenters, who knew the wood, whose hands coaxed forth its lustre and its depth. Cedars from Lebanon, for King Solomon’s Temple. Cedar oil poured on a scroll, against mould and worms. Cedar burns on the altar pleasing fragrance rises up to heaven.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091219.htmlSat, 19 Dec 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091219.htmlAn I is more complicated than it seems More complicated than I like to think Find it multi-layered, sneaky seeking in one path an outlet to other needs Yet writing as writing persists Why is bringing forth words harder than the need deliberately flowing or not freely to think To use the brain-that-sweats for the brain that sings The myriad worlds set blindly sinking before me Ready for a boot or a current jolt to tear me open at the seems.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091212.htmlSat, 12 Dec 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091212.htmlFlaked Eyelashes of Snow by Ani Boghossian I remember you once told me That they sit In strange, gauche poses Bringing comfort Only To bewildered rooftops On the purple universe… Dampness We slurp dampness from the midnight trees That become stunned clouds Above And forget to snow (It is only me, dear Wind Listening in you…) We can be like cello strings Trembling for music And when fingers touch We’ll stare At those passing strangers.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091205.htmlSat, 05 Dec 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091205.htmlIn the museum of life still labeled framed I stand with a rusty spout leaking In the garden of life snakes coil around trees I covet Cradle conceive and deceive for mere profit On an island of sound I dangle from trees To swing with dreams chiseled in brass laced tempi Mounting melancholy meager eager fissile remedy On an ocean wave deafening to break I find my confessor ready to spray my story The agony of a board cracked in two My dry suit betrays its name three times Before the rooster can chime the church bells Ringing the Suns monotheistic mourners adieu.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091129.htmlSun, 29 Nov 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091129.htmlYou feel gloomy inside every Thursday night when there is no light and the clouds are in sight In the middle of that night the giant you face has big height its shadow you see causes you fright the adversary you can never fight You try to find a reason for life’s miseries when pages of life are always mysteries one by one you turn them into histories as you live in the shadow of your adversarieshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091031.htmlSat, 31 Oct 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091031.htmlWhen the world goes extremely koo-koo I like to hide in my closet And play sudoku on my phone… I can reach the last level By World War III, I’m sure… Today my phone’s batteries are low… So I cough a good deal of Guerlain on my shirt It all starts with oil paint Than the colors scream for Clint Mansell Because I’ve been painting the moon So the moon is high, my Jamaican friend Respect me for my shoes The flooring is deep.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091024.htmlSat, 24 Oct 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091024.htmlPaper cuts from books as thick as his lips As gapped and gashed as his teeth His curly hair, Medusa rendered quatrains, airs Uninvited village crier smile, apologetic Defiant, untrue in magnitude but Blue in spirit, ethos gardens in pungent parapente. I read the words, so aware of other words unsaid Sevag’s piercing smoke rings dance in Mashdots’ band Barouir repatriating anger, not centrally planned solace When ghosts sing in riddles, nightmares cued, reverberate.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091017.htmlSat, 17 Oct 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091017.htmlA straightforward, modest book, stands proudly alongside jewelled, gold-crusted treasures made for bishops and kings. Sewn with twine, and bound with leather over wooden boards, lovingly. Copied in a village church by a priest, for love of God, in black, blocky letters by stylus in carbon ink on thick stiff yellow paper laid and polished by hand. A note by a reader three centuries ago, a memorial for his soul, and that of his dead mother.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091010.htmlSat, 10 Oct 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20091010.htmlThis morning I saw the mountains make love I saw them embrace and caress They told me a story of love with their stillness and it moved me a thousand times I wondered how such a story could be told in a moment not realized This afternoon I watched the wind do a pirouette I watched it move with such grace and gallantry It told me a story of loss with its dance and it moved me a thousand timeshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090926.htmlSat, 26 Sep 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090926.htmlI wanted to laugh I wanted to cry I did cry But I wanted to laugh Still, tears streamed… …uncontrollably for a second But then I chuckled My first Armenian Church service So emotional Didn’t have to understand the words to feel the energy… The sadness… The mourning… The tears Then, the attire caused a smirk The cloaks, the hoods, the collars It’s really quite comical if you’re not used to it The giggles Foreign among foreigners ‘I feel like I stand out’ But they looked like me Still, I was not one Not then For as long as they chant, I will laugh And as long as the incense burns, I will cry Giggles and tears My first Armenian Church service Certainly won’t be my lasthttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090919.htmlSat, 19 Sep 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090919.htmlThe sky is more expensive here simply because there are too many windows. It’s no use, but you keep on trying You press the elevator button for the top floor, The lights will indicate that you are going up But down and down you will go Till you reach the temple of faith, There, prayer consists of rearranging the furniture, Until by chance, you will find the invocation, The furniture arrangement, which will please their Gods.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090912.htmlSat, 12 Sep 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090912.htmlToday I sat down in front of the piano The keys were telling me about Vanilla hills With lonely purple trees… Today in a glass of wine I saw two lips Who were reading the Illiad In ancient Greek… The grey sheets of the sky told me that Rain will fall all night And I still will be mortal Like these trees that have no name… Still, the wind tangoes with no one And soon prints will be written On the sand On which he’ll be walking To the destination of absurdism I smell him smoking Like a chimney in a German town… The drums are still hitting My heart Like some wild rock band… How long This space is spinning around my soul While my eyes search In a raindrop a whole ocean Through which whales move and I listen to their voices echoing With the viola… I want to slip from this roof And fall into a vortex Where flickering souls are Catching light from stars And I’ll find what i’m looking for… I will be writing till the stars Start giggling again With the moon smoking pot And when the dogs begin to growl Like jazz-men in a pub I will be free, Free from this square one…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090905.htmlSat, 05 Sep 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090905.htmlYEREVAN CAFE By Michael E. Stone A little park off the Prospekt, half of it is a cafe now – not unpleasant – and the rest, abandoned. Mexican yuccas in tubs and cane garden furniture bound together with raffia, with round glass-topped tables, striving for a patio feeling, But unfinished. We sit there dining on the toughest guinea fowl ever hatched and a cool wind blows through, from one end to the other, mixing the aroma of traffic on the Prospekt and of gas pumps at the back.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090829.htmlSat, 29 Aug 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090829.htmlIt all started when my daughter said, ‘Hey dad, let’s talk Armenian’. ‘Armenian’, I said, ‘OK, let’s start’ Yet, the only Armenian word came to my mind is; ‘Gen-ta-na-pa-na-gan Ba-r-deeeeez’. Don’t ask me why? May be it’s a word sprung out from my childhood. I always loved that that word and regardless how long it was- I pronounced it with my lungs filled with joy and liveliness. But, now it’s all about the ‘ZOO’.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090822.htmlSat, 22 Aug 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090822.htmlUrge to create, maddening. Fever rising. Heartbeat growing. Breaths intensifying. Emptiness. To create chaos, chaotic. To create madness, maddening. Why do the words walk away in this endless field? Leaf trails and stunned stares at loneliness. Thirst, come and sprinkle this dryness with words Hunger, starving for expressive expressions. To crave creation, creating.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090815.htmlSat, 15 Aug 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090815.htmlI had a red dress, not fire-engine red but red-red enough to curl the curlicues upon the material into an Oriental design like the musk of the semi-tropics distilled into a perfume. Scent, scent. I would have the scent of that mood, of white monkeys there jumping from tree to tree with no one to shout at them. What impunity. What imps. What Oriental and impalpable imps to stir the mood of musk, of the curlicues of that red dress, a loner in my wardrobe of Western stock.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090808.htmlSat, 08 Aug 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090808.htmlCube -10- ‘Hashish, money, a getaway car kidnapped us’ it’s a clear note written with coal on the wall of a cave ‘We stole uncountable bundles of money, hashish and a getaway car ' It’s the first line of the notebook of an old robber ‘Where’s to be found more hashish, more money, another getaway car?" asks indignantly a policeman drowned in his blotter. O, my God, Most of all I love that beauty Who advertises hashish, fast cars and printing money All in art.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090801.htmlSat, 01 Aug 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090801.htmlWaltz or pass a cradling caress Frown or prance, test in tenses past Thickest orchestral glorying Ghosts of wars transmigrant memes Customs undressed, immolated, effaced Magical stitches, maddening wistful douleurs Panic pickled, swirling hemorrhaging Harmonic goose steps, stiffened spines Smiling boots glistening in Prussian violins Recidivist frivolity, for a grand dance or grosse pause Perturbed, blind soldiers hobbling past stretchers Kicking the contours, counting the dead Mustard gains Acid gargles Yellow vomit Mass graveshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090725.htmlSat, 25 Jul 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090725.htmlEPIGRAMS The road is not lengthened. The road is not made brief whether you laugh or fill it with grief. Whether you know nothing or know it all and more Death knows your address and can find your door. LOVE (excerpt) I love your slender blue veined hands worn thin, your fragile wrinkled skin, your sweet face, the way your shoulders slope under your shawl and a thousand cares. I love the dreams of olden days that you stitch into your knitting as you sit remembering the past: the road ablaze with the Armenian sun, the bell towerhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090718.htmlSat, 18 Jul 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090718.htmlRed poppies, fields of red poppies, and yellow flowers along the road. Last time I travelled this road was autumn, after summer and harvest. Now it’s spring. The sky - then bright, now grey, mountains outlined black cutouts against the eastern light. Rich ore colours, yellow red and black paint the road’s naked cuts. Bright yellow spring flowers replace autumn’s yellow stubble, purple bushes scattered on the mountains. Ararat’s snowy skirt modestly clouds its peak.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090711.htmlSat, 11 Jul 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090711.htmlOne click! The stapler joins the pages together like the days in my life days are added on the stack some are empty; some are half-full, others are so dense and crowded it’s so hard to make sense of anything. My days! Unmarked pages of a book waiting to be deciphered highlighted, numbered and grouped together in chapters given to an artist to illustrate, so that you will be able to relate maybe even appreciate so much so that you might consider keeping, to read, to express an opinion, and then to declare thathttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090704.htmlSat, 04 Jul 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090704.htmlRED POEM Red is so needy; so eager to spill onto the floor. A metaphor that fills cracks in cement after stabbings, lives in climates of palms, in myriaqd blotches where we rub, in dreams of coffee-stained moons in Budapest where the Danube crossed the road on which you left me after I ashed my cigarette in your dinner; the blush of your cheek still in my hand. You taught me that God is red, but like a sky recovering from a dog day in August the tapping of rain on the sizzling rooftops echoes reminders of you in postscript urgency: an image of a hummingbird’s belly, a sliced blood orange on a white tabletop, the color of skin after the slap, your lips a red guitar.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090627.htmlSat, 27 Jun 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090627.htmlKarine Ovsepian I sit alone with my silence, head to head, heart to heart, Though reasons vary today, but the labor of my words seems one and the same? I cannot stand beside it mute, for my thoughts are my hopes, And yes they are nameless, with roots that are shrewd, My hunger is for living lines, those, which I cannot pronounce out loud, My tongue speaks many languages; today’s is a hushed sweet dialogue, Dressed in the golden ray of beachside wind, As my stripped soul rests within its own arrogance, Today, silence seems my favorite fruit, my favorite mourn.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090620.htmlSat, 20 Jun 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090620.htmlNew Year’s day is approaching Short paced like a reincorporated baby All was built of blood till then Reduced to ashes through sculpted veins Oh, cosmic red dust don’t cover the roofs of my town even after the death of time Living water will flow out in its ring-shaped parks, The Conqueror’s soul will guard and star from above. The sorcery of fertilizing the burnt planets - Haik’s favorite word will always split From clear yards and festive rituals To warm freezing hearts filed in rows Fixed In the public square’s poternt memory.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090613.htmlSat, 13 Jun 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090613.htmltranslated by Diana Der-Hovanessian The wind is knocking at the door shaking glass and window sill. Let me open it to try keeping that wild wind still. Oh, fine. The wind is inside now mixing papers, letters, lists with my poems on the desk stirring them hand over fist. Well. Let them blow away. All blow, outside the door, all mismatched and mis-marked perhaps to be seen no more. Okay, as long as work itself survives.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090606.htmlSat, 06 Jun 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090606.htmlRaiding my memory, to erase or explore You are naked, flowing in tight corners, raw You are pretty in smell, style, smile tall, thin, dark haired, almond eyed You are you, and inescapably, mine Harmony gnashes a wavy banner Towing our names emblazoned in the sky Love made with breakfast, launched through each other Fancy cabaret act at night, with feathers, star dust And stamina as diligent as mountain climbing racing bikeshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090523.htmlSat, 23 May 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090523.htmlI empty the old ones and find among deposits of fine dust, Layers of me at twenty, at twenty-five… A copy of 100 Years of Solitude in French, A collection of science-fiction entrenched around copies of Voltaire. Then notes in old travel books. Some souvenirs bought or found. Cookbooks with recipes of curry, hamam meshwi, Grandmother’s lentil soup and Mum’s mujjadarah, As I meander through them, I smile at my Present, knowing that it and the Future have a solid Past.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090515.htmlFri, 15 May 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090515.htmlfive dollar coffee, two dollar therapy, blue bus, gold line, blue pills, Hollywood sign Disney’s mousetrap behind Orange Curtain the future of western civilization is uncertain Echo Park and overpriced artists studio after Mi Vida Loca goes to video thrift turned vintage, bottle of water as third appendage brownstones in Bel Air, Oxycontin cocktails street merchants of Venice, tattooed arms like black licorice shaky beachfront property, make your first mil at thirtyhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090511.htmlMon, 11 May 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090511.htmlSomeday, when you are running to the train station, or when, you are strolling in the park, lazily, looking at the falling leaf, coming down from the blue sky, you will notice another pair of eyes, and you will wonder, if … enjoyment has yet another dimension with an unacquainted pair of eyes, then you will also ponder, whether we are moved by the forces of pleasure and profit alone, or whether we are driven by that illogical, undiscoverable, magical feeling inside us.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090502.htmlSat, 02 May 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090502.htmlMarch, 2009 Earthworms glide around crocuses, In and out Of soil black and soft, Wet with night’s rain And morning’s dew. Ants scurry up and down daffodil stalks Green and firm, Into buttercup faces That smile yellow at hyacinths pink and blue And heavy with the scent of spring. Robins chirp and flutter, Carry away twigs And blades of grass To make ready for speckled, Sky-blue eggs. Under the peonies Lilies of the valley bow, Knowing that soon The bumblebee will come To caress the roses.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090425.htmlSat, 25 Apr 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090425.htmlThe pain of blades of grass Growing under the asphalt Gnawing at their instincts At stolen layered light Through crevices and cracks With steamy breath – the rain Of uncrushed ambitions – barred Complexion, unseasoned Vexing grey grime Spit and urine nourished Grinding twin empires Ottomania, Russophobia Our ancestors endured, escaped, resisted So you can burn and smoke their fingers Reaching out on lurching nights to an addict’s rage, plea transfixerhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090418.htmlSat, 18 Apr 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090418.htmlPlaying hide and seek, Partially-spoken passion, Now a time-consuming, tired ache, How momentary chaos turns pale, As each breath gently curves Away, from phenomenal dappled vision. Could it be that life shivers briefly? Braking each and every magician, Exodus! Seems to be my prototype, Life shivers before my eyes, Emotions dress in exuberance, but Timeless happiness slumbers yet again. I walk into my infinite jungle, That is where I feel at home, Free to embrace my own silence, To roam, Chanting through the world, As my soul dances in its own composition, Without musichttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090404.htmlSat, 04 Apr 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090404.htmlSated enough with love and pain A girl is walking in the rain Through the last alley of a relationship. No urgent call will bring her back, She negates return to our time and tests, And the girl takes with her The last threaded spine of a relationship The light echo of her name marches In drunk, forgetful painlessness. I call out to her to insist Girl, take with you without regret my solidarity as a flower.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090328.htmlSat, 28 Mar 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090328.htmlI AM NOT 1989 by Alina Gregorian I am not Lancaster, PA. I am not a rubber band. I am not your nation’s capital. I am not fiscally responsible. Nor am I delighted to meet you. But I’d like to start flossing. I’d like to throw arrows at Utah. I’d like to sign my name here. I’d like to tell an ant colony to pack up and go home. I’d like to sew your mouth shut.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090314.htmlSat, 14 Mar 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090314.htmlIn memory of my mother, who was one of the orphans at Ghazir The battle was within and without kinder minds caught in the World War I frame. Ideals seem to have been lost along the stony path of fate children tread in that museum of orphans in Armenian, in Greek, and in Assyrian. Traveling from Switzerland, Dr. Kuntsler read beyond the vagaries of violence, beyond the ripping of pregnant bellies, the starved desert marching, the celebrating guns that wore the Ottoman seal.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090307.htmlSat, 07 Mar 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090307.htmlKhor Virap Michael E. Stone Khor Virap on a hill’s shoulder, not even reaching up to near-far Ararat’s ankles. Its wall and dome etched out. Square gravestones scattered at its foot, like so many children’s blocks, A boy sells doves, (turtle doves?). Ice cream and Coca Cola by Gregory’s vaulted pit, wall engrooved by ages’ reverent kiss. Genocide and Holocaust Michael E. Stone Genocide’s a hard word, killing a people holocaust too, whole burnt offering.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090228.htmlSat, 28 Feb 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090228.htmlSome springs Have their own swallows, Which melodize The year, the time, Which is just life. Life has its melody, Its song, Which rings like a bell, Which is hung in our school… A note of happiness Hangs from its chime Sending tunes up my heart. It is with the same emotions That I illustrate bells On New Year greeting cards… I am resounding The melody of happiness, Which begins from our school And expands, Reaching our people and their time, Enter the classroom, Which is just life…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090214.htmlSat, 14 Feb 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090214.htmlDROPOSHPERE By Bedros Afeyan Blood banks of promises drop by Drop pass bastard sons of the deposed Gauged republic, genericized, disengaged I dream to see the warming sea Blazon nights and neon flares Hammering clamorous to ordinaire An empire gone un-adjusting Another – rising fumes and smog Billions of arms reaching for our waste Wider than wealth Brighter rectum than oil As we coil and vent Bolder eagles, unturbanned, Unheadscarved, aggregate To curse credit crevices Sloping, panting clangs Moaning delight in ancient Single note instruments of state Calming Cool Aid awaits Ribbon dancers at an Olympiad Brotherly destiny of Tibetan Pride or jest.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090131.htmlSat, 31 Jan 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090131.htmlOne day I want to speak Italian Swim with starfish Fly a plane Write a book Play the piano Feel unconditional love One day I want to save the world Touch the moon Be a legend only heard of in stories One day I Will, Because I am the strength of Hercules One day I will But not today Today I am still a book Only half read A glass Only half full A gift Only half unwrapped A song Only half heard A dance Only half moved Today I am still a fruit Only half peeled A tree Only half grown A flower Only half blossomedhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090125.htmlSun, 25 Jan 2009 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20090125.htmlAt the gas station store I saw a guy wearing shoes four sizes too big. I said, “Guy, why didn’t you buy those shoes in your size?” He ran out the store, down the road, into the river, “Guy no more,” I said, “Guy no more.” Bought a book called Neoplatonism: Pine Cones Are Our Friends. Read the first chapter then fed the fish with its pages. Wondered if the pines out back needed coats.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081227.htmlSat, 27 Dec 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081227.htmlTranslated by Diana Der-Hovanessian On this the Feast of Navasart, on this the New Year’s start, I drink to you, my people, from the chalice of my heart. Whenever cloud or calamity has darkened our fate you stood as guardian Sassountsi, my people, my state. Whether your left hand bled or you lost the right you kept your head erect and kept our honor bright. You are the hope of Ararat and Aragats to see a new dawn where all their lands are free.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081220.htmlSat, 20 Dec 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081220.htmlAll HER life she’s felt trapped. Trapped, blocked, choked. No air, no life, no chance SHE tried to gasp for air But SHE was stopped, Stripped of the right Chained, buckled, beaten down NO! No SHE was told. And what was this word? This word that stopped HER? Why did it stand in HER way? Was it that powerful, this word? NO! No SHE heard until her final moment Until no more air was left No chance, no crack, No!https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081213.htmlSat, 13 Dec 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081213.htmlWe adore the american chaperones. Articles of american madness. Chaperone americans drive caravans to bowling alleys. They say, “darling pistol” and “lunch on the rocks.” We throw toothpicks at them behind fake shrubbery. We critique the way they wax their caravans how they drink their beer how they choose mauve seat cushions. We do this until foam hammers stick out of their mouths and their hair. Still they drink their beer.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081206.htmlSat, 06 Dec 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081206.htmlTell me something. Do you like the fall? Do you like the fall when the trees exhale haze and hues? The trees change their dress. Begin to undress. It’s time to be naked. Naked with the sun. The yellow sun. The pink sun and the violet. As a breeze passes through the arms of hefty trees. A leaf. A lonely leaf. Drops gently off a twig. This is the time for separation.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081115.htmlSat, 15 Nov 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081115.htmlI LOVE YOU By Karine Ovsepian My eyes, Wide shut, Like an anarchist, Pitching and hustling My imagination of you, Open wide and pressed, To the bosom Of stinging curls, Running down my shoulders, My face, Tracing each and every Nook… Sensuality, from 1 to 10 - open end, A rolling drop of water, An imagined precipitation, A pebble in the sand Which loves embraces with the wind, Almost a wandering sigh, Vast, With each days corroded sun, In the eye of ripe moon, Like a breathless voice, Distant, A crunchy echo, Hissing upon my breast, Kin, from a distance Caressing my skin, A velvet tongue… Your vapor, Painting a new feeling, Within linings of my heart, Ever so confused, What a timing… Leisure, Lets you love me, Only when you want, Admiring beneath it all, I, My simple silence, Swelling, With millions and millions Misconceiving thoughts, It’s painful, But I love you!https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081108.htmlSat, 08 Nov 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081108.htmlIt isn’t melody or melancholy, Dread or a draped dungeon to flee When we state our pledge, ‘Tis of Thee Our Country, hillside beacon, brave, free When our faces, pigments, surnames strain Our limited, luxurious vocabulary When our ancestors, wars, treasons, failures Enslave our surfeit motility, evict, evince retreat When greed gropes our hopes and renders them Randian folly There comes a time for prayer, for grace and glory To penetrate the fog of flag-flung hypocrisy Hosannas to a nation shedding disgraced prejudice For a bright, young, industrious dreamer To set us free, let the past sink and heave For tomorrow will greet our ideals in destinyhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081101.htmlSat, 01 Nov 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081101.htmlWatching Steve serving at the Bar. He smiles with inquisitive eyes of ‘What can I serve you tonight’. `Pour that Wyatt*, my man. Will that go well with the stripped bass?' But first, tell me, how many love stories, sob stories, heartaches, smiles, drunks, tips, stinginess did you witness tonight? Randy takes over as Steve goes out for a smoke. The regulars are holding court around Norma and her multiple martinis.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081025.htmlSat, 25 Oct 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081025.htmlTranslated by Diana Der-Hovanessian I am at home with the homeless and the mad, those who have lost their laughter and their land, the orphans, the wanderers, the dispossessed of nationhood, friends, and address, women stripped of modesty and shame and left desolate and maimed, those whose eyes dimmed looking at death, those with nothing to lose now except breath, those in doorless prisons in the dark, those charred by fires they did not start– they are my brothers.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081011.htmlSat, 11 Oct 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081011.htmlyou waste yourself on words and become a long sentence for the deaf a crooked reproach for the blind an absolute nonsense for the insane +++ By Sara Margaryan If you feel somebody inside yourself gnawing your intestines and biting a piece of your heart do not become a victim of false suppositions of pregnancy it may once devour you and live your life instead If you feel the pain being the cause of your nightmares change the tape of the consciousness uncover your soul get hold of the beast inside you and look into its eyes: if you see emptiness there - do away with it and if you see your own reflection thenthen I `m not your advisor.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081004.htmlSat, 04 Oct 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20081004.htmlDon’t worry, I will not forget I always will remember the stories you’ve shared Even the ones that hurt to think about Like how the Turkish children split Daddy Sam’s head open on the way to school one morning, just because he was Armenian The past is the past, but I will not forget it Grandma, don’t you worry, I will not forget your cooking It’s what always kept the family together I promise to keep us bound after you’re gone No one can cook dolma quite like you, But I will try to remember your recipe As it’s been passed down to mehttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080927.htmlSat, 27 Sep 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080927.htmlPASSWORDS By Diana Der-Hovanessian We don’t need a huge vocabulary. Say “Dikran” and the walls of Dikranagerd rise. Say “Ani” and a hundred church bells peal in a wild shower of sound. Say “Der Zor” and the Euphrates sinks to a dried blood dusty bed. With “Yerevan” multi-colored fountains bloom. Say “tsaks” and your mother’s smile crosses time like light. ARMENIAN The name does not mean much to us. We call ourselves Hai after Noah’s great, great, grandson.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080913.htmlSat, 13 Sep 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080913.htmlShe treads softly on the parched earth. He steps stoically on the rocky soil. The river Arax shimmers in the distance And age-old mountains called Zangezur stand watching. The couple passes the wishing tree Where strips of fabric hang, But they wish for nothing anymore And brush past tattered bits of dreams and faded shades of hope, Murmuring, “Wishes do not come true.” Down in the orchard Where fruit trees drink Murky water - Runoff from the mine - And piles of debris decay Near butterflies, shanties, and tumbleweed, Large, sugary pomegranates - crimson and yellow - lie on the ground Spilling liquid ruby and gold.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080906.htmlSat, 06 Sep 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080906.htmlWhen I die…have no pity No mercy…or regret … My darling…. Don’t put any flowers on my gravestone… Don’t shed any tears… They will be untrue and false… As you were to me… You never loved me I don’t want you to be sad… Let me rest in my grave… I want no one to come… Specially you… Don’t ask for forgiveness I will never forgive you. But…The truth is Your name was the last Word…that I whispered… Before I died.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080816.htmlSat, 16 Aug 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080816.htmlHe stood unbound, brilliant booming pitch Daring fame’s too short a lease to tire An overworked Queen and a burst poet’s appendix orphaned Crazy uncles, old world advice, newspaper boy in cafe’s Circulating telegraph messages on windy roads While genocide visited the Armenian Night He discovered San Francisco and New York Flustered wasps, street walkers, huddled denizens Gamblers, dancers, poor and burning Arabs, American foundation All the way up and down the Malaga vines.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080802.htmlSat, 02 Aug 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080802.htmlDiscover the face placed on your destiny The past might be curious, enlightening, yet deadlocked It was said, ’there would not be’ its never late To learn the skill of discovery, it’s as learning truth it was said that ’ disappearance will occur after 2.5' What kind of unit is 2.5 love, separation, and infertility? A face will be discovered in a destiny, the past is deadlocked! At one stroke of a hammer solely to smash glasshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080726.htmlSat, 26 Jul 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080726.htmlVin Santo – sweet wine Made of white ripe grapes. Dip those biscotti – finish it off with that espresso doppio macchiato. Transport yourself to Florence – or some tiny Tuscan village such as San Giminiano, where the medieval towers cast the only shadows THIS side of Sienna. Think of all the people before you, who have admired these paintings at the Uffizi; Of all the people who have prayed at Santa Croce; Of all those who hoped one day to see underground portraits hidden since WWII.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080719.htmlSat, 19 Jul 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080719.htmlMother from Egypt Father from Turkey Well, the land formerly known as Armenia And bearing that same blood from both All with large noses and ’ethnic’ features Daughter of immigrants She grew up in a two-bedroom apartment in Jersey City Where her parents sheltered her From the poverty and tragedy Yet, still no stranger to hard work She grew up hearing of what it was like back home Far from the streets of Jersey Where the blood of many relatives tragically stained the soil To be left in her roots And those of her husband Whose orphan mother and dark-skinned father Knew all too well They managed to make it to the States As they had to escape the fate That three young men Brought to millions In a new place, this young couple assimilate Losing the language almost as quickly as family Surviving by means of conformity To some degree But all for a better life This wife never forgot the memories Never forgot the recipes Never forgot the families And birthed two sons Who knew of the tragedies But were too far to relate To lost relatives Too far to understand Too few who knew So she grew into grandmotherhood With four legacies to be specific Knowing she must pass the torch As it’d once been handed to her Fueled by the internal flame That her relatives were burned for having Mother from Egypt Father from Turkey Born in America Still an Armenian Queen And I call her Gramshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080712.htmlSat, 12 Jul 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080712.htmlHomesick for your own land you left the university and splendor of Europe and traveled singing songs of home. You left singing “I go to the provinces of the sun, the fountain of light.” All the time it was you who was the light, the light you called “Blodstream of nature, the gown of day.” It was April, an ironic April of flowers reeking of death, not perfume, an April with the hyena panting in wait while you started out for “the founfain of light.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080705.htmlSat, 05 Jul 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080705.htmlIt’s atrocious to crave like this, Every thought a disturbed murmur, Naked words like burning candles, So invisible, yet burning at both ends. Craving with such a wondrous pain, Nights unveil solitude of nothingness, Two expressions with exquisite form, Who’s to preach at such hours human norm. Qualified perfection could address this desire, Hot is heat, but this is fire, Burning each branched majestic thought, Side by side, two blazing leaflet souls.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080628.htmlSat, 28 Jun 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080628.htmlHave I lived in life a jester’s dream? Soliciting in beggar’s garb Accentuated laughs and coughs. Unsuppressed incomprehension Swiftly lost and bought In a booth of lights? The crucible of truth plunged to its death After the fall The view from the Bridge With a salesman shared. Wright augmented play commence! Pen can head, heal and disgrace. College Park, MD (1987)https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080614.htmlSat, 14 Jun 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080614.htmlARARAT AND YEREVAN By Michael E. Stone Over Yerevan Mount Ararat looms at dusk tenebrous, moon shines above its very peak, just like in tourist paintings. Then mountain fades into sky, and darkness is complete. BLACK MOUNTAINS By Michael E. Stone Here we go round the mulberry bush So quoth T.S. Eliot, But it’s a tree, not a bush, Grand, spreading, broad-leafed. At the bottom of the garden The neighbours’ branch grew over Could be climbed from our side and we did.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080607.htmlSat, 07 Jun 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080607.htmlI was born bilingual but… The Armenian language is the music of my childhood, the sweet taste of everything that was home. It is my lost treasure, halved and bartered; the dream that comes to haunt the English language dream. It is the echo of the ages, the shadow of old giants, but palpable. Yes, we made it. We are part of it, this gift we are letting drift away.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080531.htmlSat, 31 May 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080531.htmlThe old woman Takouhi Watches the fly Climb up the window screen. She blinks As wind blows strands Of white hair across her face. Pressing her crooked finger Against the screen, She points To pink roses spotted brown, Half-shriveled tomato plants Sprawled on the ground. And she remembers… Her mother and father Dead in the fields, Her baby brother Tossed in the river, And her big sister Dragged away by men.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080517.htmlSat, 17 May 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080517.htmlMY FATE By Tanya Hovanessian My fate was to live as a human called the most able after God. My fate was to live in this fearful century. My fate was to have a dream I could not reach and to die without kissing even your eyes. I AM NOT A PAINTER but if I could just paint my eyes on canvas calling it Sadness I’d be famous. I AM A WOMAN NOT A FOOLhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080510.htmlSat, 10 May 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080510.htmlYour chant, Go ahead deposit its suffering onto mine, Let them sway cheek to cheek Their graciousness is already broken. Let your love be my tortured aftertaste, Your desire my powdered desert, Then bake a cake with burnt sand pebbles, Patching the cracks with slippery tears. Let your lips joyfully kiss silence, As I walk sinking into the abyssal oblivion, With my tongue quizzed by faint triumphs, Raging with spear of love obstructing my soul.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080426.htmlSat, 26 Apr 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080426.html(Sans Slow Movement) by Dr. Bedros Afeyan Gliding in a desert of sound Cello here, piano there, Anticipation, A caravan under the sun Limited water supply Unkind draining ditches Parapets, parasols, vestibules Yet bars close and bars follow Repeats, shifts, gloom, ecstasy Brahms at the keyboard Marching through the cello Slicing infants, newborns In thirds, fifths and glissandi Yet bars close and bars follow Repeats, shifts, gloom, ecstasy Movement after movement, Emblazoned with emotion Breathing fire, yet recurrent Recycled, repeating past Its own beauty, A sonata for a repentant You and me.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080412.htmlSat, 12 Apr 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080412.htmlWHAT THEY SAY IN KARABAGH For centuries we have fed it our blood and our bone. For centuries we have swallowed its bread and its stones. Nothing will tear us from this land that we call home. AT THE MINAS AVEDISYAN MUSEUM A fire like Gorky’s (What can be worse?) burning your life and all and all its work? I search your colors trying to find what was so threatening to a proleteriate mind?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080405.htmlSat, 05 Apr 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080405.htmlIf you feel somebody inside yourself gnawing your intestines and biting a piece of your heart do not become a victim of false suppositions of pregnancy it may once devour you and live your life instead If you feel the pain being the cause of your nightmares change the tape of the consciousness uncover your soul get hold of the beast inside you and look into its eyes: if you see emptiness there - do away with it and if you see your own reflection thenthen I `m not your advisor.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080329.htmlSat, 29 Mar 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080329.htmlIf a lamb were born in Armenia where it realized its innocence, would it be of the same heredity of genes and mystical whys as I? Would the cells of its nourishing blood be stamped Yerevan, the capital city, or would they decry the lost one slightly to the west? Would it imbibe pride with every drink of water as the people do? Or would it be the lamb that a mother calls– karnoog, she might say while patting affection’s fur– to a child with scrawny legs, hoping that home will be her religion?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080322.htmlSun, 23 Mar 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080322.htmlI dreamt I saw you in a dream You were white in dress, flowers adorning black hair You were singing, swinging, swaying from a key To key stroke of genius and elegy You sang of desire, of endless folly Having visions of sonnets The Bard would greet with envy You sang of love, abandon, menagerie You cooked and scraped and loved my company But every dream in dreams must end To reveal crusted truths in moments Before the taking of cakes and teahttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080315.htmlSat, 15 Mar 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080315.htmlPROSTITUE OF LOVE by Karine Ovsepian My head between my heart and essence I am a spinster, nothing more than a quintessence, I am the prostitute of love, The buoyancy of consolation of pain thereof, I am my own design, Who never procreated, not even one. I live in mans world, Where I exist and expire each day the way I am told, I crate my own mistakes, I sin and forgive with them no matter what it takes, Maybe that is why I am nothing but a spinster, Not a saint nor really magnificent.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080308.htmlSat, 08 Mar 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080308.htmlFirst you have to add all your expenses. An expense is any outlay of cash, or anything of monetary value which is deemed necessary to get you that which drives you; to repeat the noises you hear, to convey the feelings you live, to express the things you imagine, to transform the pain to laughter, to put tears in the eye of the cynic, to put a smile on a child’s face, that which you call inspiration.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080223.htmlSat, 23 Feb 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080223.htmlWrite something about life - You will ask me one day. It will probably be one of the quiet evenings When the nature dives into the sunrays And present itself to its utmost - Then you are mostly inclined To philosophical talks. I will not answer to your request Because I always write about life, Regardless of the form In which I present my writings: Not necessarily poetry but lines Without beginning or end.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080216.htmlSat, 16 Feb 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080216.htmlThere was a woman once I knew Whose love could not smother but coo Poised and fragile, butterfly in flight Color fed, serene, as though untouched But soon a break, a turn to flush Like a giant gouache engulfed Bleeding sores, memories ill stored Disillusioned lanterns invaded by civil wars Promised quotients and debts unpardoned Propellants to sadden a shadow-grafted soul This hewn of binding hues heralds each morn Blessing thine escape, the grasp Divine A postponement for a vagrant troubadour Searching in breaths to shore, to shore Without implosion or demi-tour.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080209.htmlSat, 09 Feb 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080209.htmltranslated by Diana Der-Hovanessian There is an invisible chain in the skies unseen as pain is unseen except in the eyes. The chain settles with the galaxies of night to buckle the stars each to each. They flicker like sacred candles and reach, but are tied to order and held separate by sight. You and I are bound like the stars by dreams, not by need. Always together, always separate. On the same course but orbits apart.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080202.htmlSat, 02 Feb 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080202.htmlOne grey winter morning I was hurrying To catch the metro train to my office, Which is in an out-of-the-way place. Suddenly I caught sight of an old man, Stooping helplessly over some broken, Dislodged steps, covered with icy glass. Miserable and confused, he looked around As if seeking for someone To help him pass. With pain in my heart I recognized my old professor, Our beloved mentor and instructor, Who taught us, among other serious things, How to be successful and honest in life.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080126.htmlSat, 26 Jan 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080126.htmlNauseating tedium in the lyceum Melancholy races, crushed dolls Imitating invaders, evaders Echoes louder than dendrous tentacles Starving the ecstatic dreamer The 200 miles an hour creations Coiled through the maze of viscous jammers, Welcoming their blades to an impromptu dance Carving up his tongue, his liver, the fire brand, Floating face down, crowned in rejoicing perversion, In frenzied monodromy, uncreased calm, vanity rising Vortices of vagrant collective virility, strapped on, deadly.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080105.htmlSat, 05 Jan 2008 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20080105.htmlYou told me once, That starlessness cures insomnia. Well, I blinded all the stars But stayed awake. Perhaps it was the punishment For my impudence, And a mere indulgence, That I was saved from death. If so, then I should appreciate it, Perhaps I could not I continued to seek feverishly All the possible ways to switch off my mind And plunge into darkness. I had no more stars To distract my painful attention - Yet I had them in my memory.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071229.htmlSat, 29 Dec 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071229.htmlTranslated from Armenian by Diana Der-Hovanessian You are real. And because of that, perhaps, I can walk under clouds and rain and not forget the sun. On the coldest days I remember there is fire somewhere after all. In the heat of sweltering days I realize that snow shimmers intact on the peak of Ararat. You are real and because of that I see beyond our room to taste life with two mouths, four eyes.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071222.htmlSat, 22 Dec 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071222.htmlRemember the curtains Mother? How they wrapped their arms around the sofa on windy days, how the blue-tongued ocean below our window licked the painted toes of French tourists in bikinis? Remember tea parties on the balcony, the red dress you sewed for me right out of the latest issue of Burda magazine? And then the missile’s cry, how its whiny trajectory fooled us as it lit up the summer sky during rooftop dinners.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071215.htmlSat, 15 Dec 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071215.htmlLala is little, Not because she is a child, She never finished growing. Forever her mother’s ‘baby,’ Her father’s ‘if only.’ She spends her days In the toneer room Where once a week Her mother bakes bread, Thin, round, flat bread–lavash– The first piece always For the Lord. Lala looks on As her mother bakes. She utters sounds Only The Lord and her mother understand. And her mother nods, giving her lavash– The second piece always For Lala.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071208.htmlSat, 08 Dec 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071208.htmlLetters do fly and words often fall Symbols crinkle, dissemble, crawl White canvas with dark jaunty jesters Lengthy islands chain, drum in sequins Shallow sea beds teasing, resisting villipends. Paws prance with Poe, pensive parapets Dream Pamphleteers, stretch vortices into hymns Poe Am I, Poe do I crave, poem ending mopes To follow vilipensive, jagged ornaments. With a breath recirculant, heating brass instrument caverns – to sing, Like Delilah holding the severed head of an angel – to dance, For the earth to move under this very pen, rearrange its ugliest sins, Abandon its stabbing instruments at the altar of a trembling virgin’s vitrine.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071201.htmlSat, 01 Dec 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071201.htmlI look in the mirror… I see myself…. In the room 101… I WAS someone…. In every corner I see…. My hopes…my dreams…. And good times…. I feel the joy of your hug The thrill of your kiss… I want to cover myself…. But… I touch the mirror… The room is empty now…. The hopes… the wishes…. Are gone away…. The room is empty…. I look again….I see myself…. Hopeless….https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071124.htmlSat, 24 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071124.htmlWhen darkness covers your existence, When sounds ache like wounded heart - Forget attempts of false resistance, And give your life another start. If fails - you’ll see and feel its failure, But if succeeds - that’s your reward. Life smiles just only when you pay her, If not - await the fire and sword… February 2004-02-20 By Sara Margaryan If you feel somebody inside yourself gnawing your intestines and biting a piece of your heart do not become a victim of false suppositions of pregnancy it may once devour you and live your life insteadhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071117.htmlSat, 17 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071117.htmlBirth, A mysterious alias, Why would I want to extinguish your sigh, When brazen soars are eager to embrace you, oh my. You force thousands of chariots Across my sequenced sky, Where love is best profane, A different rush within each dripping stain. I live with million follies, Which makes the sin my friend, Knowing, that living as a vagabond requires no pretense, I am domesticated animal - hence!https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071110.htmlSat, 10 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071110.htmlJUSTICE By Maro Margarian Translated by Diana Der-Hovanessian There is something in this world called Justice. Its other names are Compensation and Restitution. But it is never called Punctual. On the contrary it always comes too late. Like a missed love, timed wrong, worse when it arrives than if it had never come. Causing more pain. There is something in this world named Justice that arrives late to find a new name on its door, Injustice.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071103.htmlSat, 03 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071103.htmlEat boiled wheat and pomegranate seeds to celebrate new teeth. This is only the beginning; not Genesis beginning but the start of the absurd list. Announce ‘sweet bath water’ to a newly bathed person, and they must give you their clean cheek to kiss. This is lucky and good. This makes God happy. Read your fortune in the dark maps left behind in coffee cups and believe it, but don’t bet on it; what you see is what you get.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071027.htmlSat, 27 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071027.htmlEvery religion is sacred and wise, It gives a divine description of the world, God has created for us all. It says we are the superior creatures on earth That must be kind, tolerant and right in all. But some people take it wrong, Making religion a source of hatred and war, Spreading enmity and evil over the world. Men of the world! Beware of that! No religion says we must be apart!https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071020.htmlSat, 20 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071020.htmlWe seem to have lost That affection for being, The love of discovery, Pleasure of seeing. We praise the misfortunes, And sink in depression, Feel comfort in lying, Performing aggression. The flowers lost Their fragrance and beauty. We live in the world Of time-tables and duties. We feel so bored In the silence of nature, That take to the forests Tape-recorders and pagers. With constant reproach And endless refusal ?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071013.htmlSat, 13 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071013.htmlWith the wisdom?s truthful grace. Prolonged oppression must exalt, Not to become chaotic revolt, From time to time one must bite the tongue, Before it bites a piece of old and young. Silenced vindications arise with the day, Painted in our own colors of dismay, As with each new brush stroke, We dress them with our unique smoke. Blueness in the sky, glimmer of the sun, At times with sweet words could be done, Yet double-shaded faces of missing hearts, Become nothing more but whispering of arts.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071006.htmlSat, 06 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20071006.htmlLET FREEDOM REIGN By Bedros Afeyan (To M.L.K. Jr.) The luxury of indifference Through the gospel of ignorance Made virtuous Who can love? And what is hate? In this blissful miasmal state? To witness all and merely shrug Choose to change channels In search of hearty laugh tracks Nations glued to little else Beat their drums and their chests We are free! Come the cries This is freedom. Free at last.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070929.htmlSat, 29 Sep 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070929.htmlTranslated by Knarik O. Meneshian To live, one must give completely– Strength, joy, fervor, and youth, Have no fear of pain, hold back tears, Forget smiles, love, and compassion. To live, one must defy death. What joy not to grow old! Time plays a joke in vain, And defeated, it passes you by unnoticed. Instead of walking, take flight–falling matters not, For he who falls from up high does not stay down.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070922.htmlSat, 22 Sep 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070922.htmlCall me genocide Call me rape Call me extermination Call me slaughter Call me massacre But never call me a lie The systemized, strategized murder of masses to a particular demographic The havoc The elimination, extermination planned to a nation The concentration camps…before Jews were stamped My people were cramped Into mass burial graves We were not born as slaves Yet forced to behave By means of obey A God that’s not ours And give our bodies for free And by give I mean take Because there’s nothing consensual about cold-blooded rape Followed by slaughter To mothers and daughters While the heads of men became trophies and sat on sticks Till all the blood drained out It’s straight sick As if that’s not enough They were put on display As a lesson to obey But the damage was done Before we could run Because we were forced to march Until the end was the start And the start was the end Starved.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070915.htmlSat, 15 Sep 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070915.htmlI looked for you under the barstool underneath my wine glass you were mine for one half hour stolen by an oil-streaked man in an olive-colored suit pinky ring winking who molested you with his eyes extracted you from the wedge of my pocket smoothed you out decoded you in the alley outlaw rhythm of my beating eyelashes my bracelet trailed your shapely limbs as I transcribed you from the smoky air found you floating above the candles let you fall out of your gownhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070908.htmlSat, 08 Sep 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070908.htmlIt was John who mentioned it first: “I’ve discovered Saffron Tea”, he said. And was quite determined that it should be “subtle”. “Tea is black”, he added, “just as wine is red.” I couldn’t agree more. Patty came in with a care package with IRAN stamped all over it: bags of prepared Saffron tea, 250 grams of Isfahani Mirzapore exported directly from EEEERAAAAN, green cardamom barely dried, and a package of saffron you can’t buy this side of the Atlantic.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070902.htmlSun, 02 Sep 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070902.htmlA stylized salt-cellar, in brown ceramic ovoid, a woman’s face, and a fringe of pottery hair on top hands at its sides. a marsupial Humpty-Dumpty with a pouch full of salt for flavour, and a pottery spoon.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070825.htmlSat, 25 Aug 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070825.htmlIf only I was a poet. I could portray the earth’s entire beauty And have my pen draw nature. But instead of lilies I find ivy That shrouds my potential And instead of the wind’s soft touch, I feel the heat from the fire of my trapped soul If only my stroke could show me my love And tell her that I miss her gentle touch. Yet my heart seems to take me to quiet pastures Only to lead me to a cliff and bid me adieu For you, my bitter flame, my sanity hangs on the edge Begging you to show me my future, so that my soul can rest todayhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070818.htmlSat, 18 Aug 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070818.htmlFractions of a life ring out Fractured morsels of tempting hearts Effaced apogees, elastic, nomadic chords, Crinoline forests of fine lights caress Fixed figurines brooding in the sky Helicopter blades heaving, tails raised Provincial police alerts garble on Prisoners grinding hope with lacrima, Lucy in the Sky carved lacerated labia. Music menaced memories on a garrulous journey Rapacious service, fragile in industry Masses sing for mercy, unrehearsed To evoke a bursting flow of triumph total Global, grotesque, orgiastic as Carnaval.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070811.htmlSat, 11 Aug 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070811.htmlLike feathers falling from a torn pillow, Snow flakes tumble Onto streets and walks, Bare trees, withered grass, dead flowers; Onto roof tops, telephone wires, and the occasional clothesline. In the frosty cold, Quiet beauty shimmers everywhere, And I remember the lady in Gyumri. I never saw her face Nor heard her voice. Did she laugh or cry much? Did she dare to hope or even dream Amidst the poverty and shabbiness That had become a rite of passage For many in that far away place?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070804.htmlSat, 04 Aug 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070804.htmlmarch to death an ancient civilization native language silenced. Look at lost cultures! Manuscripts where our shame is sheltered, sealed within the walls of fear of being different! organized persecution, segregation religious intolerance, and color differentiation, government organized race annihilation, the definite death on the unending desert sand. Now we are tired to overcome this new threat. This new partition, based on the ability to spend cash on Berger King, Pizza and movies, or charging our future on such classy items as, Four Seasons, Disney’s, health spas, or searching connections with jazz, rap, or Yo Yo Ma.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070728.htmlSat, 28 Jul 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070728.htmlSome call it a vase & some call it a vase I alternate depending on what mood I’m in I’ll choose to say vase today But regardless, it’s symbolic of a people A great people that were displaced Like the pieces of this broken vase Scattered & distorted Picked up & aborted Moved & confused But they remain the same Different pieces of the same vase Many linking to one One land.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070721.htmlSat, 21 Jul 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070721.htmlClose your eyes and think cha-cha-cha; close your eyes and think of me swaying left to right to the rhythm of the music. Close your eyes and imagine me. Dec 7, 2006https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070714.htmlSat, 14 Jul 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070714.htmlYou praised red roses raised for Vartavar. And in return I sang sad singer’s songs. You said: Your country’s gardens are unmatched. Search near and far In spite of flinty land your roses burn. Vartavar’s red rosy wreaths are wherever you turn. Just like hail spangling mountains, dales, their flames have scorched our fields and burned our homes. Look, where endless blood was let. So many bled. No wonder that our roses blaze so fiery red.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070707.htmlSat, 07 Jul 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070707.htmlA drop of a dew…. And memories of lost love……. Gives my heart hope to stay on… To go by the days…or even months… To walk through the life… With the reminder of your loving touch… warm smile… they give me strength to go on…. But when my heart cries…. Of the sweet memories of the past… I feel no sunshine no dew .. I feel only my tears … Running down my face… The conflict I had been through.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070630.htmlSat, 30 Jun 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070630.htmlSawdust, a stream of litter on the floor, the door inside the outside door ajar, the contents of each dining room drawer emptied, strewn as if a giant had poured out everything. I ran screaming to call 911, surveying the chaos inside the bedroom, the lingerie a tide of silk and nylon flowing to the hall. “Table silver, all jewelry, an old photo of my father at four in a village dress, the only thing his mother saved, pressed on the inside of a brooch, and old cameo, my mother’s, my great aunt’s rings.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070623.htmlSat, 23 Jun 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070623.htmlUp Climbs the shepherd With his flock. “Hey, hey!” he calls, Tapping his stick on soil and rock Up The mountain Aragats. Higher, A shepherdess In a billowy dress With hair tucked under her scarf Sings as she stirs a pot Hanging above flickering flames Near a canvas tent And strips of wool dripping, drying on a rope In the summer wind Sweeping across the mountain, Through rocky fields, green pastures, and alpine flower meadows Of blue and white and pink and yellow.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070616.htmlSat, 16 Jun 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070616.htmlThrough a hidden socket on the wall A curled up parchment, timeless scroll Heaven grinds wagons, wailing wings Bumbling euphorias, doubter’s tambourines Revelation mounts the Keeper of the Tower of Song Muttered drones paint septuageneric fauna Winking as if twenty bodies strong Soot eyes smile, widen Till tears fill his feathered pen Revelations mount deeper The Keeper of the Tower of Song To smile in irony’s chords With Dead Sea tentacles Leading the chorus dandelions In a pop country Pentecostal scream To usher in recantations or murmuring retreatshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070609.htmlSat, 09 Jun 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070609.htmlIt was light, like thin air a vague suspended state where everything could matter less or anything could matter more compared to others, distant, detached hazy others.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070602.htmlSat, 02 Jun 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070602.htmlEyes? so unprompted, so carelessly vagabond, Could they be the worst imprisonment of a heart? Could they be the wondrous glory of each and every start? Eyes? so ridiculously forged with fiercest thoughts, Dreadfully proud of miseries captivated within a breeze, Their random dance seems a weaponless tease. Eyes? embattled obnoxiousness of past hopes and dreams, Beyond reported facts and diffused believes, Embedded freckle of inseparable clothed nightly thieves.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070526.htmlSat, 26 May 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070526.htmlToday I will make bread: Butter. Eggs. Olive oil. Water. Milk. Flour. Salt. No yeast. Baking powder instead. Knead lightly, roll out, cut into small portions. Brush with egg. Sprinkle with sesame seeds. Bake until golden brown. Rejoice. Poor orphans, your mothers and fathers are dead. No more your good-smelling grandfather. No more your grandmother, her wise and angry voice. Hold out your hands, dear ones. Let me fill them with bread.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070520.htmlSat, 19 May 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070520.htmlARMENIA: The Deathless Tree By C.K. Garabed The seeds had been planted upon the peaks of Ararat by Noah the progenitor. The waters of the Tigris and Euphrates nourished the roots of the seedling tree. The trunk grew modestly at first and bent with the winds of change. But sturdily it grew until it became a cordon of rings so mighty that not the Parthians, nor the Assyrians, nor even the Romans could uproot the tree.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070519.htmlSat, 19 May 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070519.htmlTranslated by Diana Der-Hovanessian If one is to die let it be lion-like fighting off death to death’s last strike. If one is to live let it be the same way so that two million don’t disappear in one day.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070512.htmlSat, 12 May 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070512.htmlFor my Grand Mother Pergruhi Alahaydoyan 1912-2006 Who survived the Armenian Genocide By Shushan Artinian I held her hand and gave her a smile; Alas, she’s far off, many a mile. She thinks I’m a friendly neighbor, When in fact I’m her loyal grand-daughter. “What’s my name?” I asked her, “Darling” was her unsure answer. “What is your name?” was my second question, Her silence increased the tension. She did not remember her own name, Nor the place from where she came.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070505.htmlSat, 05 May 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070505.htmlShe dices the onions finely. A construction worker, 25, falls to his death. She adds the coriander, cloves and ginger. A soldier, 21, walks over a roadside bomb. She removes the meatballs from the fridge A journalist, 43, gets shot thru the head. She stirs the sauce over a low fire and adds a few tears to the pot.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070428.htmlSat, 28 Apr 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070428.htmlEffervescent, glutinous, elastic, ornate Equivocal endorsement, heart belt, hosted head Dismal doubt for the sincerity of the sinner Drowns the premise of the sin grinders instead. Make a fish smile or a lion swim Let a muscle twitch or a battle blossom Let the country sink in jingo driven jungles Far away desert gold protected by our armored castles. Let history deplete the motives as its narrative tussles Crucial facts obliterate the dust of their threats divine Politics presume pretension will gurgitate revisions Till brown masses of pint size braggarts make Texas logic lord and prances.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070414.htmlSat, 14 Apr 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070414.htmlReaders - they are my only secret: gentle readers, avid readers, concerned readers willing to correct me whenever I stray from the straight and narrow, eager to remind me that honey catches more flies than vinegar (so does manure, but never mind about that now). Writers of the past were not as lucky as I am. During the Soviet era, for instance, the only advice our commissars had for our writers was a bullet in the neck.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070407.htmlSat, 07 Apr 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070407.htmlThey ask me to be involved. I send 50 blankets, 100 bars of unscented soap and 1000 pencils for schoolchildren. I can’t send my shock. They ask me to shed tears. My river overflows. My dry eyes sigh. My morning juice sours. I see double sometimes. They ask me to spread the word. I type too fast. My images are pasted on the past. My daily trek is vexed. Memory still consults my mind.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070331.htmlSat, 31 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070331.htmlSONG OF THE SHEPHERDS By Knarik O. Meneshian Up Climbs the shepherd With his flock. “Hey, hey!” he calls, Tapping his stick on soil and rock Up The mountain Aragats. Higher, A shepherdess In a billowy dress With hair tucked under her scarf Sings as she stirs a pot Hanging above flickering flames Near a canvas tent And strips of wool dripping, drying on a rope In the summer wind Sweeping across the mountain, Through rocky fields, green pastures, and alpine flower meadows Of blue and white and pink and yellow.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070324.htmlSat, 24 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070324.htmlUnrefined columns of human stance, Tragedy & drama within a glace, Enough attempted spice and glamour, They all dress in personal rare grammar. Composition of each tilted soul, Somehow tends to make another whole, Like the meaning of each prediction made, Becomes their daily flimsy masquerade. A piece of finale, a piece of remorse, Imitation becomes their driving force, Some yielding multiple divisions of love, Yet some with a silent aloofness thereof.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070317.htmlSat, 17 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070317.html(for those who can make the ultimate sacrifice) Contrary to popular belief there is no good war or bad war. There is no ‘good’ or ‘bad’ in the first place. This is an attempt to take you out of the boundaries of virtue, and evil, to a new horizon a wider perspective. Please be careful and don’t assume that I might be fair, unbiased, educated, unprejudiced, or any other meaningless thing like that.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070310.htmlSat, 10 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070310.htmlAnd later discussed serious things. They leave, cutting the roots that Tie them to the land where their ancestors And the greatest of the Armenians lived They leave because the times are hard, Because those in charge aren’t able To provide and secure their lives. They go with their families and even clans, Leaving behind only the feeble and meek, Who are unable or unwilling to endure The shame and fuss of that unworthy enterprise.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070303.htmlSat, 03 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070303.htmlZahrad, Armenian poet whose real name was Zareh Yildizciyan was born in 1924 and educated in Istanbul. He was educated at Mekhitarist schools and attended medical school for a while. He became a poet known for short, epigrammatic, witty, modern verse. His work was trend setting, wry and playful but with a sharp edge. He died in February 2007, in Istanbul. The poems below were translated by Diana Der-Hovanessian, American born poet, who tells a funny story about him: He had been writing to her for years, in English, even sending valentines, etc.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070224.htmlSat, 24 Feb 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070224.htmlHey Turk! Did you think you disposed of me? That your conscience was clear because you erased your memory? That you could wash your mind of its historic bloody stains? Did you think you could eradicate my name as you did the inscriptions on the old stone churches in your midst? Did you think you could teach your children lies and then have them repeat your words and make them sound like truths because they came out of the mouths of babes?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070217.htmlSat, 17 Feb 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070217.htmlHrant Dink, in memoriam By Krikor N. Der Hohannesian They snuffed him - Turkish style, a crowded street in Istanbul three bullets in the brain point-blank, draped his corpse in a white shroud weighed down with bricks at four corners, left him lying there for onlookers to gawk - to what end? Horror? Or, This Is What You Get for Being Un-Turkic? He was a journalist just like you, hairig, and just like you seeking dialogue, no sinister agenda - quite the contrary, a life’s quest to opening doors to the blackened rooms where suffering abides, where grudges are held tight to the pained heart, where decades later old wounds still fester.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070210.htmlSat, 10 Feb 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070210.htmlOn the train, A lady reads- Short story. In gratitude for cleaning his cage My dog- Invites me in. Yellow roses, In Clay vase- Wait. Winter storm Traffic jam ‘Come to Florida’. Claims the billboard. After long time searching For a peaceful place, my cat- Rests on the loudspeaker. Her brasserie Hung on the wash rope- Lone summer. Autumn leaves Greet me from under my Knees Silent snow Silent mosquitoes Tea.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070129.htmlMon, 29 Jan 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070129.htmlA lone deer comes to my backyard, She used to come with a large vanguard; Raising her ears at the smallest sound, She warily grazes the grassy ground. I do not know what happened to the others: Her timid sisters and her horny brothers. I observed this one when she was a newborn, I recall her running through the shrubs of corn. They used to come at the dusk and dawn Before we started to mow our lawn.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070122.htmlMon, 22 Jan 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070122.htmlFace down in a manger, draped in a white sheet of shame Turkey cuddling its colors by three silver bullets in the activists head Hrant Dink sang his praise of Turkey and the land he loved Blending his Armenian heritage, a sliver of his ancestral pride. He wrote polemics, reportages and op-ed pieces in Agos and tied Ballads to broken bonds beyond turpitude, beyond poisoned blood He signed his name to pleas of reason as best he could portend He believed all feuds could be mended, our agony surpassed by surprise attacks Status quo infracted, threats refracted, faced down, absolved.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070120.htmlSat, 20 Jan 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070120.htmlTime to forget nature’s mannerism and remember that earth is not an enemy. Time to recommend soil that gobbles seeds and gratifies us with the command of plants. Time to plant our reprimands and gather the green of their leaves for an appreciation. Time to suspend the negative moments like dangling participles to a sentence that will obey. Time to repair the crafts that need new glue; even flour mixed with water will do.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070113.htmlSat, 13 Jan 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070113.htmlTranslated by Knarik O. Meneshian It was a bright morning in spring When we met… You gave me a red rose And said, “A jewel for your breast.” The day was so clear, so light… I had nothing But my heart And said, “Here, a memento for you.” With my undying heart You rejoice and rejoice… But your fragrant red rose, Jewel for my breast, lived only for a day.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070106.htmlSat, 06 Jan 2007 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20070106.htmlSomewhere, long ago, in an ancient, rocky land, there was an old man warming himself by a fire. He was alone. The world he knew had died - his world: the people he loved, gone, the children playing in his village, gone, the village itself, gone. Only the sun remained, and the wind and moon and sea, and the rocky ground that led down to the sea. His only companion was his fire.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061230.htmlSat, 30 Dec 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061230.html(Twelfth Century Armenian Miniature) Turning her body away from the angel she almost closes her book. One hand holds her collar tightly to her throat . Part reluctant, part afraid, she cannot help looking at the branch in the angel’s hand about to bloom, flowering with the word made flesh, mystery made truth, and God made ours, blossoming as she will with the seasons that will never be the same, as every woman knows.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061223.htmlSat, 23 Dec 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061223.htmlYou might as well be Lebanese If you set your clock to a war Bombed bosom of thine brother’s barrage Fastidious religious banners, lust, lore. Poised in prayer on the head of a silvery pin Exploding sperm banks evict the middle road As Eastern quest to questions ring Channeling Western coffers Abducted news and queues: Kill, kill, kill and be killed in between. Governments come and go speaking of ethnic effects of dominohttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061216.htmlSat, 16 Dec 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061216.htmlwhile the farmer thinks of the children who already grew to leave the land behind to search for a home. Like a newborn the farmer looks at the spring sky full of promise when the produce will be ready to sell when the fruits will ripe full of promise.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061209.htmlSat, 09 Dec 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061209.htmlIndifferent to reasons, that are misled hallow spaces, Consciously masquerading life, Wrapped in clean linen stories, Put away, Like two-hearted swans, Single body of expressions, Distressed with realms of control and pleasure… Indifferent to weakness, A culpable mind thirsts alone, Mixed thoughts sprinkled everywhere, Unevenly, preserved with muteness of life, Thinking to themselves, Disputing irrelevance of worth, An insignia of incomplete existence, Prey to avarice… Indifferent to pandemonium, All reasons burn at both ends, Derelict moon dressed by each rising sun, Kisses plague of each day, It slivers skin to thin layers of ice, Depraved, Living insipid life, Adoring antiquity of flesh and bone…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061202.htmlSat, 02 Dec 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061202.htmlGod gave me birth once and seated me on the leaf of a big plantain I grew up and turned into the original image given to the first human maid - Eve What are my further doings?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061125.htmlSat, 25 Nov 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061125.htmlThere is an old tale About a boy An only son Who fell in love with a lass. ‘You don’t love me, You never did,’ said she to him. `But if you do, go then And fetch me your mother’s heart.’ Downcast and distraught The boy walked off And after shedding copious tears Came back to his love. The girl was angry When she saw him thus And said, ‘Don’t you dare come back again Without your mother’s heart.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061118.htmlSat, 18 Nov 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061118.html“Love is not all. It is not food nor drink.” Edna St. Vincent Millay Nor is food love, but palate’s sport alone. Even with ceremony, without toast or vow, it is just means of keeping flesh on bone. But table and altar are confused somehow. We substitute our food again, again for rites of love. Look how this buffet sinks with golden fowl and platters of grain and candles for our eyes to drink.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061111.htmlSat, 11 Nov 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061111.htmlUp Climbs the shepherd With his flock. “Hey, hey!” he calls, Tapping his stick on soil and rock Up The mountain Aragats. Higher, A shepherdess In a billowy dress With hair tucked under her scarf Sings as she stirs a pot Hanging above flickering flames Near a canvas tent And strips of wool dripping, drying on a rope In the summer wind Sweeping across the mountain, Through rocky fields, green pastures, and alpine flower meadows Of blue and white and pink and yellow.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061104.htmlSat, 04 Nov 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061104.htmlIt was light, like thin air a vague suspended state where everything could matter less or anything could matter more compared to others, distant, detached hazy others. But what mattered more, was this one person, this individual, who was not just one anymore, since she was composed of; her, me and the entire world together. Not together like in an alphabet soup, but rather like a beautiful collage of none prescription inclusions of very special feelings, sensitivities made of delicate sentimental mental states, specifically made for this utterly uplifting occasion, which should not be called an occasion because it is more of a preoccupation, an overgrowth of involvement, deprived and eager to conquer lost time and space, it stretches beyond the heart, empowers the mind, with thoughts beyond the acceptable and the imaginable, it ignites the soul, which now conquers memory, it propagates creativity, it harnesses imagination, it liberates dreams.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061028.htmlSat, 28 Oct 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061028.htmlPulp Diction CAN I HATE A TREE? By Bedros Afeyan Can I hate a tree for its immobility? Can I hate its arms outstretched, hesitant, unprobing, Surrendering to the sun’s trajectory The prevalent winds and nothing firmer More abstract or nurturing than photochemistry? Should I hate a tree for the living decay it taunts and wears Its molds, folds, corrugated skin ready to peel and crack And sag with sap, without heaving variety in its dreams?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061021.htmlSat, 21 Oct 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061021.htmlThere is power in silence. To speak, to tell all, is to make everything known, providing for closure and the ability to move on, to heal and forget; but, to say nothing is to keep our bond contained, and thus maintained. There is suspense in silence. The things left unsaid and unexplained remain so always, creating a forever connection, a pact based on unspoken words that should have been uttered long ago.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061014.htmlSat, 14 Oct 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061014.htmlUnloading boxcars on Erie Street for quick money taking anything that came along always on the run which was anywhere and going because I never stood still and sold siding, shoes, awnings, pots & pans you name it whatever came around the block I jumped and rode it until I got bucked or bored waiting for that one train the great chance to ride the rattling rails down that track U.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061007.htmlSat, 07 Oct 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20061007.htmlIt’s how we turn our hips To face the looming day Ready to learn in a lurch To mark the scents of sorrow In revolutions per sunrise Undulations per sunset lost. To be a waking animal at nightfall A sleeping tinkerer by day To meet the hips that turn and jerk To accentuate these mournings of May. The salty air evades Cannery turn to Mall The merchants are asleep, The truckers in revolt, Yet I cannot sleep nor read At hours of my choice.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060930.htmlSat, 30 Sep 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060930.htmlor pulled off my face. No one ripped my belly. I was not taken to Istanbul for either harem or experimental hospital. No one nailed me on a cross saying, `Now let your Jesus save you.' No one made me servant or slave. No one had me crawl like a dog or grovel for a piece of bread. My soul did not wither or fold its wings choosing to drown in the Euphrates rather than bear another day.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060923.htmlSat, 23 Sep 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060923.htmlA trip to the Native American village I like feathers because they are pretty. I like to talk to Santa Clause because I like my Christmas Tree. There are nine pumpkins in the village My friends play with me I like to play with toys, Martin Luther King saved the world. I like my friends and my aunt I like to swim in a hotel pool. I like dinosaurs because Triceratops eats plants.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060916.htmlSat, 16 Sep 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060916.htmlI was a poet when celestial rings Of burning clouds hissed for me Danced around campfires as nymphs, Called for rain Or overcast predictions Of sexual digressions Committed to paper In defense of the word supreme — The Word, spring like and nurturing. I was a poet when sense sank into a samovar Pouring sensibility through a cup of blinding tea And Leotards jumped in unison to frighten gazelles Across the screens of mundane melancholy.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060909.htmlSat, 09 Sep 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060909.htmlBeauty to me is red, Drinking the dew from poppies - Breathing gentle narcotics, Flying with ladybird. Beauty to me is red. Beauty to me is white, Bridal imagination - Purity smells carnation. Churches - eternal light. Beauty to me is white. Beauty to me is blue, Sea in the sky’s reflection, Moonstone without fractions - Born as it is, not glued. Beauty to me is blue. Beauty to me is black, Smoggy deserted towns, Masks on the gloomy clowns, Pearls on mulatto’s neck.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060902.htmlSat, 02 Sep 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060902.htmlTrey Ellis would probably call me a ‘cultural mulatto,’ and you’d probably agree; America is not the dream, it’s where you sober up (with a bad hangover) and get (de) familiarized to the color of your skin. But sitting here on Baghramian Ave., squinting my eyes at couples perched at their tables I wonder if they ever think of their next bold move' and if (my) morbidity ever discomforts them.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060826.htmlSat, 26 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060826.htmlWe will never leave the picnic at Thompsondale our mothers ever beautiful in their summer dresses Our fathers with straw hats and colored suspenders The blanket spread upon the meadow cane poles strung bobbers dancing over the slow moving stream The grape leaves gathered in the basket will never be taken home the sandwiches will be eaten again and again And clouds will gather and part the sun will rise and recede night will come And then tomorrow again and againhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060819.htmlSat, 19 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060819.htmlWhat, might I ask, are the three? Cowardice Selfishness Immaturity Perhaps the three are her, you, and me. . . the three that will forever haunt your dreams, like the Holy Trinity you gave up, as if nothing. You say she is your queen, with her wide nose, fat thighs, and ugly moustache. What about the princess you denied as your own? The little girl who will always be yours, no matter how hard you try to say no.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060812.htmlSat, 12 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060812.htmlI am not I, But why? Cool face, black hair, An icicle of moon, Holds me up above the water As day passes by passions canal, All nights become personal. I am the ship out on the sea, With a drunken heart, My lips red as dried out roses, Calling absent fate, All so subtle, so intimate. I raise my cup in an empty room, In this light my heart seems transparent, No sirens, no traffic lights, Not even you, just I, Transparent as gauze.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060805.htmlSat, 05 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060805.htmlOur narratives are fresh detached roots Dangled drips of negotiated reality Dispersed in alien geopolyphony Flowering at the edges of volcanic ashlands. Our narratives are frail identities Molested yet sold in street trade Molding Garry’s Hadison’s and Aznavour’s Pealed Garabedian, Heditsian and Aznavourian Mere traces of a chorus fallen land. Our stale narratives, cataloged fresh, fresh Die with each veneration, dragging choice privations Chanting dignity, justice and christian destiny Fermented jackets of indifference, self absorption Inviting every label, model and color of extinction To metastasize a small vineyard of apricots and dreams Into bewildered banality, Los Angeles, Yerevan Hemorrhaging Hye** identity haunted past The volts of historical heresy.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060722.htmlSat, 22 Jul 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060722.htmlXXXXXXXX By Sara Margaryan They say that I should look above And see the planet Mars At night it burns on brown sky And marks it with its orange light They say it happens only once In sixty thousand years That Mars appears on the sky And come so close to Earth They say and I believe them But oh, I don’t see it Here the sky is dark Here the stars are drunk Here I don’t fly Here I don’t have Armenian skyhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060708.htmlSat, 08 Jul 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060708.htmlI prefer to keep myself sorrowful and gloomy by giving my happiness to the gliding breeze. I like to let my endeavors falter and fail by tripping over my last step of accomplishments, abandoning titles by forgetting the roster of my skills. At the critical moment when you are depending on me, I rather cry like a newborn, in witness of the awesome stature, strength, and fame of strangershttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060701.htmlSat, 01 Jul 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060701.htmlTranslated by Diana Der-Hovanessian and Reprinted from the Christian Science Monitor (A poem for the April 24th anniversary of the genocide by the Turks) Today let everyone of us for a minute forget blood and tears and we will not have two million sorrows. Today, this once, let everyone of us have only kindly thoughts and we will have two million feelings that are pure. Today let everyone of us keep a pulsating star in mind and we will have a sky of two million stars.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060624.htmlSat, 24 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060624.htmlWe climbed the hill, My brother and I, We climbed until we reached the top. In the distance stood the mountains called Verdugo. The California sky was bright, And the air was crisp As the March winds stirred On this first day of spring. Despite the winds, It was peaceful here, Among the rows and rows Of old and new Level-with-the-ground headstones. In the distance, Lay red flowers - another headstone to be placed.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060617.htmlSat, 17 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060617.htmlThe best part of school was the window I looked out of?over the seen and imagine spaces there and beyond The school bell never sounded or announced its arrival inside my head I heard only the trees and birds singing and what the wind said Across the schoolyard tenement noises with cars passing and talking trucks everywhere The rag and tin man on his horse-driven cart and the excited fireman?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060609.htmlFri, 09 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060609.htmlThe south wind rises stirs leaves among Fresno graves I am reminded of past storms ruined raisins the two of us walking through muddy fields bending over trays stuck to the ground in perfect rotting rows father and son using simple words to express amazement hide disappointment convince ourselves next year will be betterhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060603.htmlSat, 03 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060603.htmlInstallation by L. Bourgeois, 1989 Like two commas that cut a flight of words into halves these, too, are fat and slow guarding the stairwell with their Sphinx eyes wrinkled in stagnation there is no exit for them. But you still can whisk through to the stairs hidden so well behind the screen, first, train your feet and then grow a feather with each step. Note: This poem appeared in The Spoon River Poetry Review, Winter/Spring 2005.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060527.htmlSat, 27 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060527.htmlyou live in a city where stone scrapes the sky where the starts are hidden behind the roofs you live in a city where the smoke of cigars makes the nostrils loose where the motion leads the crowd where the snow melts in mouth caught in air and coughed out I sleep on grass of emeralds and eat unripe and dusty plums right from the trees I share bread with funny ducks and quite seldom smoke cigars ?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060520.htmlSat, 20 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060520.htmlThe sun is brighter. The air is warmer. The grass is turning green And tiny buds can now be seen. Rising from A long winter’s sleep, We turn to ebullient thoughts Of the coming spring. A time to reflect Upon springs of yesterday. A time to dream of Springs of tomorrow. Spring - the anticipation Of life anew. Spring - the realization Of life’s enigma. February 2005https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060506.htmlSat, 06 May 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060506.htmlOne Your face is the autumn light shining Through leaves hung by frozen Branches on the early harvest time Wetness of your lips reflect sunlight Gleaming on the horizon yellow Purple clouds laugh while their hems drop- The early rains of morning flood Two She lies down next to me and I see Her cloud blossom breasts Tinkle by the breeze blowing Across the sheets. Then I walk down the staircase Of her marble ribs and find a meadow Shadows extend towards east… It will rain soon.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060429.htmlSat, 29 Apr 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060429.htmlYou were not only the uncle of the man I most admired, you were also the uncle I longed for but never had. You were the jewel in the lost desert of the San Joaquin, in that city for which you and your nephew held the only promise for me, being your troubled admirer and friend. Like me you prized writing above all other human activities, and also like me you had done nothing about it yourself.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060422.htmlSat, 22 Apr 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060422.htmlThe old woman Takouhi Watches the fly Climb up the window screen. She blinks As wind blows strands Of white hair across her face. Pressing her crooked finger Against the screen, She points To pink roses spotted brown, Half-shriveled tomato plants Sprawled on the ground. And she remembers… Her mother and father Dead in the fields, Her baby brother Tossed in the river, And her big sister Dragged away by men - Long ago, When the heavens screamed As the earth flowed red On land where her people lived.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060415.htmlSat, 15 Apr 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060415.htmlWhat if all the poets were rounded up and killed? What if all the priests were executed? What if all the men in the country were drafted and then shot in front of ditches they themselves had dug? What if the government said; In two days you must leave your home and belongings taking only enough for two days on the road? What if all the pretty girls were raped?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060408.htmlSat, 08 Apr 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060408.html“Have ye read the wondrous story A Transcendent page of glory! As it happened in Armenia In the province of Sebastia ‘Tis a tale of women brave Choosing Death, themselves to save From the Turkish soldier’s lust From his satyr passion gust Three thousand drank the poisoned cup Others, no poison left to sup, From crests of hills they leaping fell Into abyss of gorge and dell. Their fathers, brothers, husbands, sons ‘Gainst Turk’s artillery and guns Seven and twenty days methought Had battle waged and stubborn fought The foe, of arms well provided Whilst their meager stock exhausted Yet fighting still they heroic died.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060401.htmlSat, 01 Apr 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060401.htmlThe word, ‘Turkish,’ so sweet, so brutish. The word, ‘Armenian,’ in the roof of your mouth. We make love between turns we take to say them, these two words like stars in singing constellations burning the distance between them, utter each consonant, suck each vowel like the tail of an oud, thrust each syllable, purse the Turkish lip like sugar, mention that Armenian is more gauche, like a horse, a spit in the dark.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060325.htmlSat, 25 Mar 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060325.htmlYour thick, black, sweaty hair. Your crooked, toothy grin. The nervous stutter of your voice. The smell of pencil lead and soap. The rough touch of hands well used. Of all the things Still tattooed in my memory Of you It is the slumped curve Of your shoulders and back As a paternal hand Pushed you the other way And you scurried from me, Carrying my life with you .https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060318.htmlSat, 18 Mar 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060318.htmlRain, making my soul thunder, With solemn darkness of insanity, It crises with composite hunger, Against passion of naked sanity. It stands with despicable foes, Corrupted by the bosom of remorse, With each effectual drop, It makes hearts flip and flop. Its exorbitant desires are a maze, Within each drop a hidden gaze, With it?s mortal obedient sense, It drills deep into soul?s incense. It dresses in divine compassion, With power of obsolete fashion, It caresses sinful and stony hearts, Creating blind pieces of fine arts.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060311.htmlSat, 11 Mar 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060311.htmlIn relation with you The sweetness of life ripens, Becomes enjoyment and happiness, Becomes tasty with bliss¦ Flashes and illusions¦ Flashes and illusions¦ Become real as Light and warmth¦ Light and warmth¦ That is how life becomes actual, Which is an inexhaustible ending Of expectations¦ Eternity is devotion That cannot be defined by meaning, Be conditioned by causality, By moral or social values¦ Plunge into my bosom, Do not worry with the story of survival, Because we are the convicts Of an inexhaustible ending¦https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060304.htmlSat, 04 Mar 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060304.htmlstrangers in our own untranslatable paradise we wait for the discovery of new colors and hues to depict what we felt. Taking refuge in intensely personal emotions so extraordinary, that when we try to verbalize we sound like babbling toddlers. we have our daily routine blanketing the deep stillness of treasures so rare planted in each of us by the other defying dimensions of time place and destiny in the clear shiny night the stars keep on singing the sparkling songs of the cricketshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060225.htmlSat, 25 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060225.htmlChess is war in measured unit steps Beauty brought from a silent clef Freedom from drones of cliches Offering illusion, freshness. Chess is unownable, yet community makes Trickling progress, sudden death Mocking comprehension, bounding past instinct space Chess is grand pilgrimage from aging to progress. Yet there is only one chess, with chess its nearest profit. 5-11-97 Livermore, CAhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060218.htmlSat, 18 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060218.htmlTo freeze that frame When our hearts spoke aloud To etherize a crowd Shan’t it be the same By and through the seven lands And the four, which make the seas Through the eternal, sterile sky Whispers mimicking an April breeze I’d steel the rings of Saturn Mt. Olympus from Zeus Horns of Beelzebub would be mine As the wings of Seraphs I’d make thine The moon I’ll have with butter The sun with toast and tea The rest I’ll swallow whole Just to have your eyes Mesmerized Upon mehttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060211.htmlSat, 11 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060211.htmlYou closed your eyes after giving a new dimension to kindness to love after stretching your arms beyond your own body to touch a sufferer to soothe a wounded soul. You closed your eyes to grow wings of cherubs so they would take you sooner to mitigate hunger and ease agony as if your mission would never be over as if you would not be allowed to rest. They called you Mother because a heart in pain always came first because you were there for every need.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060204.htmlSat, 04 Feb 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060204.htmlWhite fluffy cotton balls, Carrying the poplar’s seed, Gather in cracks and crevices Along the lake’s front. The Island, they called it, in Sevan, But bound to the shore now, A hill, the churches on the top, Pop-up book cut-outs. Across, above the lake’s low green shoreline, Snow in the mountains’ folds, Mountains’ cotton ball seeds. Sevan’s Snow Lake Sevan’s bluish water shines like burnished steel. Hills low as huts are dappled with shadows shaped like Rorschach tests.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060128.htmlSat, 28 Jan 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060128.htmlSHIFTING THE SUN By Diana Der Hovanessian When your father dies, say the Irish, you lose your umbrella against bad weather. May his sun be your light, say the Armenians. When your father dies, say the Welsh, you sink afoot deeper into the earth. May you inherit his light, say the Armenians. When your father dies, say the Canadians, you run out of excuses. May you inherit his sun, say the Armenians.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060121.htmlSat, 21 Jan 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060121.html‘Sir Orfeo’ is an English poem in the tradition of a Breton Lay. In its day, it was probably performed orally to music as well as read. The author of the poem is unknown. The oldest copy of ‘Sir Orfeo’ is found in the Auchinleck manuscript which dates to around 1330-1340 A.D. As its title suggests, the poem is an English adaptation and reworking of the popular Orpheus myth, the most famous version of which is found in Ovid’s Metamorphoses.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060114.htmlSat, 14 Jan 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060114.htmlFollow me. Under the moon, Where we usually meet. Follow me. Shattering stones Will fall from the roofs. We will never be happy together, But today? just follow me. Pure, innocent? don’t utter a word. The petals faded. Follow me. I don’t play games, I don’t stay sober. I wait for the impossible. Reward my patience. Follow me. I still believe in you, my angel, Your empty eyes? immortal glimpses.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060107.htmlSat, 07 Jan 2006 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20060107.htmlShall we turn to blogs, I asked, cybervision like a knapsack on my aging back? I’ll write of the many countries that have weighed upon me, one taking my arms and another taking my legs another my taking my head. Altogether they’ve used my conscience for their bed. I spilled hope of dry afternoons on the child that was Turkey and changed its face to Syria. They are strangers to me now.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051231.htmlSat, 31 Dec 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051231.htmlAnd she answered, Memory is the paper that cannot be erased by erasing.–Diana Der-Hovanessian, from The Riddle, 1994 This is a true story she says stepping up to the lectern slowly each step bearing ninety seven years of weight. The audience (cough) at once black crows signing to each other (cough) (cough) we walked at night we hid at dawn buried (cough) ourselves under the sand not to be found by the gendarmes (cough) she is almost blind behind the thick lens–that night we lost two girls Manush (cough) eleven and (cough) Zabel (cough) their bodies hanging (cough) (cough) each morn(cough)ing above my bed, their ton(cough)gues ripped out, (cough) their hair burn(cough)t.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051224.htmlSat, 24 Dec 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051224.htmlTranslated from Armenian by Diana Der Hovanession To prepare a Christmas tree you need two things. First the tree itself and then the ornaments. To decorate a Christmas tree you need tree things. Beside the tree and the ornaments, you need hope for a string of good days about to begin. Actually to decorate a Christmas tree you need only one thing: eyes to change tinsel to diamonds. To decorate your tree then, take my wishes for the New Year: wishes for more illusions.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051217.htmlSat, 17 Dec 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051217.htmlCollectively we stand Or think we do. Collectively we hope Declare the sword Inferior to the pen Or ink or feather. High in reason, sure of measure We serve our lord Sweetened self interest Illusion of duped masses Making their gains into our profit. Sloganeers, marketers, steeped in musk We regurgitate faithlessness As conviction, Markovian prediction Of endless struggle For good old liberty And apple pie freedom As billions die slowly.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051210.htmlSat, 10 Dec 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051210.htmlYou know where Winnipeg is don’t you I was born there. I worked with my father On a farm, we raised cattle I had nine sisters. Come here, Let me tell you a story; One day we were killing cattle, With my father you know I was tying them tight with ropes To keep them still, you see? And my father told me, ‘I’m gonna Kill the next one at the spot where you look at the animal’, and you know, I was looking at the animal right in the eye Guess how old I am?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051203.htmlSat, 03 Dec 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051203.htmlMY GRANDMOTHER, 1974 By William Michaelian My grandmother sings Arravod Looso eats batz hatz and cheese all day watches soap operas with cross-eyed American girls wearing lots of makeup stealing each others' husbands having their babies amot she says I can’t believe my eyes what are they doing who are these women why do they want to show everything when I was young my mother wore three dresses at a time a girl would fight to preserve her honor I remember Siranoush Gulian took her own life when she was violated her poor mother lost her mind and these girls look at them they keep their mouths open like prostitutes you can read their minds here have some grapes sit we’ll talk how are things at school turn that thing off these filthy Americans make me sick please sit by me tsakoog.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051126.htmlSat, 26 Nov 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051126.htmlMy students are writing math poems invented by Aram Saroyan and named by 6th grader Laurie Burke. They are adding Loneliness to Happiness and getting Poetry. They are multiplying Twitching by Six hours and getting School. They are subtracting You from Me and getting Nowhere.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051119.htmlSat, 19 Nov 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051119.htmlYou are my daily mastering lie, The throne to my hearts thunderous sigh, The mind with soar transported fear, Watchful fire burning within oceans bed, which I can hear! You are the tune of my newest song, The words embraced within transparent lust of wrongs, The hand that rocks my worldwide cradle, My dream, my thorn, and melodious battle. You are the blessing of my daily thoughts, The invisible mortal, my souls suspicious want, The chain over my guilty façade, which I eagerly desire, Muted, infant lips which I would silence with passionate fire.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051112.htmlSat, 12 Nov 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051112.htmlThe child relaxes As the home fires are lit And all the night lies outside. Fades the fields, the grain, But dares not reach its bony fingers out, To touch the fire. Sit down my young friend. Winds are chill and chafe around you, Howl as if their hungry questions, Will not cease upon the shutters of the windows, Windows that close out the night. But I —– Can not see the lights that call you.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051105.htmlSat, 05 Nov 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051105.html‘It is yours,’ I said. ‘Yes, it is mine,’ you agreed. Your belly will grow and I will read poetry to your swelling, pink flesh. I will nurture you with Hayastan food. We will be as one. ……………….. silence ‘It is yours,’ I cried. ‘No, it is not,’ you muttered. ……………….. nothing.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051029.htmlSat, 29 Oct 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051029.htmlKurt Vonnegut said: `We all are inmates On the planet Earth’. If that is it, Shouldn’t we thank guards For every bit of goods? For job and family, For friends and for health, For love and for food. And when step by step They take goods away, We still appreciate The miracle of life And the hope to revive. We all are hostages On invisible stage, We are brought here Against our will, Let argue with me Who was born with smile.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051022.htmlSat, 22 Oct 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051022.htmlSipping tea at Le Cafe See bamboo chairs Reflect sorrows of afternoon, Dust bursts off my tongue Songs of bygone Sheepish glance at shady glass. Then, for the fourth time I observe the clock- Have a date with the Mountain Will he come by? Trumpet blasts at crow’s tune Air is intense- spit and angst Blow the throats of Disguised pawns Breasts sigh as girls Slide at sideways tide Stains surface on my white tie A frog mourns a lost lagoon- Have a date with the Mountain Will he come by?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051015.htmlSat, 15 Oct 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051015.htmlDo you love the world you live in? Have you ever caught your own mind on despising it? If yes, have you ordered yourself Immediately to stop it? No? Then don’t you think you still lead a hidden hypocrisy? Myself a wonderer, I always loved them - Shabby, with searching eyes, Curious, miserable at times, Shadowy, like ghosts, Proud in their purity of mind - Beggars.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051008.htmlSat, 08 Oct 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051008.htmlGrandmother, the city is cold, I’m coming home to you. Walking, walking on concrete, I have begun to feel like it. Grandmother, I’m coming home to you. To the smell of wood smoke in the air, And animal tracks in the snow. To the feel of earth at my feet, And pebbles in my hand. To the song of birds, And the rhythm of uncut grass Rustling in the wind.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051001.htmlSat, 01 Oct 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20051001.htmlDissolved pupils of the eye floating in search of melted conscience, pitiful, disdained mermaids turning in automatic dishwashers lost fragments of clouds deodorizing laundry bleached charcoal sitting in a powder state waiting for enough liquid vapors to solidify again under the transparent shelf below the garlic salad next to the peeled watermelon, artificially engineered to render seedless almost like the cat pruned and clawless. Dissolved intellect dwelling in cynicism discovering new explanations for all the wrongs the useless expenditures, the failing grades, The decaying health, the dull morale… failing intellect queued up at the entrance, of the comedy clubs, the dance Mecca’s the unemployment lines, the stadiums, and finally at the SAT-college admissions or was it registration line Defrosted purpose made of diluted pupils to see only here and now can find no value in the past nor can envision the promise of a futurehttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050924.htmlSat, 24 Sep 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050924.htmlCross-stones of Armenia, sprouting from beneath the churches, with arms cut-off dark, mute grooms, that orphaned slouch underneath the sun, in solitude, in ache, in stiffness, in crystal elegy, in stoic calm, as rows of brides with slit throats and broken hymens, desperately crowd the rivers in springtime, impatient to reach the Caspian shore. Stones of Siamanto, each one marrying a bride on the page, relentlessly in wait for a first kiss or a stolen word frozen on her terrible lips.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050917.htmlSat, 17 Sep 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050917.htmlLong ago, on a street corner in the city where I was born, there was a dump truck full of large green cabbages parked in the mud. The driver of the truck raised the bed, forming a mountain of cabbage on the ground. Suddenly, from nowhere, several dozen women appeared, as if they had been waiting beneath the pavement itself. In exchange for their tears and in some cases a few small coins, the truck driver, an unshaven man in his sixties, handed cabbages to the women.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050910.htmlSat, 10 Sep 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050910.htmlI am thirteen years old. Forever. Pasternak said he was fourteen. But I am younger. Just starting but no longer a child. And aging fast. Although the world stays new and wet behind the ears. I just begin to understand that I will never understand. And I am in love as if for the first time with the written word. This affair began when my grandfather promised me that true love would always be returned.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050903.htmlSat, 03 Sep 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050903.htmlWithin numberless folds, A short silence summons me, As joy and fear rebounds my heart, With clusters of jocund music and airy crowd. Within such rebellious rout, I swarm within the air of arched pavement, As the thick airborne silence becomes the daily dew, I can’t help but wonder if your presence will charm me anew. Within the dimensions of hollow salt, I taste your existence summoning my unstructured heart, As I level within spaced arches of expatiated and conferred self, Your immenseness as a frequent visitor becomes the setting sun.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050827.htmlSat, 27 Aug 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050827.htmlIn 1905, as Armenian villages slept in Anatolia Vaguely suspicious of coming escalations in atrocities Invitations being readied to be evicted of their vibrancy, Forced marches to the Syrian desert To starve, to be raped and shot To perish for all eternity Branded by Genocide’s call An Imperial Ottoman decree Executed by the Young Turks of the Ittihadist Party A Swiss patent office clerk revolutionized the pace And essence of scientific discovery Bypassing the halls of exulted Academe Stagnant in drops of self importance and mortal rivalry.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050820.htmlSat, 20 Aug 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050820.htmlI was an observant guest In Shell Island Today. The bay was full of Countless shells. The waves every second Were tossing out in haste New-new piles of Scallops Empty shells; Some-colorful, some-pale, In various measures And shapes, New-new piles of Scallops Bare shells… The children were playing Carelessly with them, Peopl were collecting Fancy shells, And the oceans itself Tireless and endless Was conducting the shells’ crashes on bays…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050813.htmlSat, 13 Aug 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050813.htmlFin de Siecle Cycles of sickle strokes Hammered in red Coronations of single cell Members stranded at the Altar of alabaster Communes corrupted Cast, cranial discussions Effluvia of national pride Pleasanton, CA 11-24-99https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050806.htmlSat, 06 Aug 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050806.htmlIt looked easy enough. One foot. Then the other. Step. Over the threshold to the other side. The door looked open, even welcoming under its arched frame. Start. One step. Two. Why count? Go. I did. Ran in fact. But didn’t reach the other side in the same shape I began. The glass door dividing here from there neatly as I walked through my impatience bounced me back. I got up, shook off the shock pretending accidents are planned.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050730.htmlSat, 30 Jul 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050730.htmlThe absence of pain is so fragile, that, being afraid of destroying it, I clinch my fists and try to memorize every second of its peacefulness. Then it gives way to pain again and, unable to touch my own fingers, I perceive them as bearers of unknown strength and energy. And I leave them clinched, my teeth shivering, my eyes wide open, and my mind occupied by the most impossible of the dreams: to start living in memories, memories of the fragile absence of pain.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050723.htmlSat, 23 Jul 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050723.htmlUnder the pine trees, Around the juniper shrubs, White bells hang silently From green domes. Each time I pass them, Each time I pick them, Sweet chimes of spring Fill the air. February 2005https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050716.htmlSat, 16 Jul 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050716.htmlThe realization of the loss made me feel hopelessly useless I was fearful, vulnerable, motionless, incapacitated by my inability to move, to go, to leave! A sudden sense of primitive humanness assaulted into my existence, shaking, shattering, and ultimately reshaping all pre-learned notions of reality, and acceptable norms of behavior. There I was ready to use my arms, legs, and teeth to break into that locked door, I was ready to scavenge any road- side dump to find a tool, which will help me open that metal and glass access …https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050709.htmlSat, 09 Jul 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050709.htmlIt is appalling news! you will say and make a phone-call to your close friend to spread the rumor she will in her turn call her close friend and they will all in their turn call their closest friends until one day you will receive a phone-call from one of your close friends with that appalling news which by that time you will have forgotten about and then you will take the phone-receiver.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050702.htmlSat, 02 Jul 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050702.htmland no witnesses left except those who were small children and not burned or smashed against the walls, small children old enough perhaps to walk young enough to be carried but old enough to recall once there were tables where they were fed before they had to walk, walk, walk, small children who had fathers once never seen again, grandmothers who did not last the walk, small children who survived deserts, mountains and thirst and were never apologized to or acknowledged by the world that they existed, except by small poems.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050625.htmlSat, 25 Jun 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050625.htmlI needed fox Badly I needed a vixen for the long time none had come near me. – A. Rich, ‘Fox’ (1998) I AM fox. I come from Silence. My triangulated face has ripened in the dark fields of the Republic. My burnt-yellow eyes have prayed for Midnight Salvage. My lacerated skin has dreamt of a Common Language. I AM vixen. I hunt alone. I sharpen my teeth on Lies.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050618.htmlSat, 18 Jun 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050618.htmlIn Vienna once an empire’s capital, Nazism’s home of Strauss and of strudel, At the airport two young, black-haired, bearded rich boys, a priest with wife and children, some families loaded with parcels, And we two otars, sit Waiting for a plane To Yerevan.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050611.htmlSat, 11 Jun 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050611.htmlor Aram, foundation of the Armenian roster of names. The living room that served my teens served me your melodies, 33 rpm records spinning a hypnosis to sweeten my coffee. I filed the melodies alphabetically–Gayane and Masquerade then– imagining ballets with toes of Armenian lore and boots of Caucasian dances. The intonations tended to me when convenience was curt or when my mother knitted acrylic or wool for afghans. My responses were carded and sheared and ready to spin the wool of negatives into something cool.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050604.htmlSat, 04 Jun 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050604.htmlWe lived a life behind these walls. Brothers united by blood and sacred theme, our mission was to wait and watch and pray through summer’s dust and winter’s ice and mud, and through the sweet, sad longing of autumn, and spring’s blind, erotic dance. Now, we are gone. But the walls remain, solemn and gray, bearing the scars of man’s sad war upon himself. In crevices, generations of windblown seed put down roots, then spring forth like a boy’s new soft beard.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050528.htmlSat, 28 May 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050528.htmlI saw trees hanged head down in the lakes, I saw lawns that covered up the dumps. I heard footfalls that pecked the stillness of night And faded away in the jaw of the dark. I saw it, and someone else has seen it, I heard it, and someone else has heard it. What we’ll do that will be a test¦ I saw the sun burning the unprotected Who worked without breaks and without hopes I saw rains that washed away the traces And a thunder that muffled all the cries for help.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050521.htmlSat, 21 May 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050521.htmlOur existence seems to be loaded With so many paradoxes With so much absurdity. We pretend enjoying life… Early mornings We rush to the toilet. Wife and husband we exchange few words Around the coffee table. To keep our shape We escape the breakfast, With an empty stomach We are drown into freeways To be at work on schedule… At lunch we have time or not To chew a sandwich… Maybe few phone calls To the friends we missed.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050514.htmlSat, 14 May 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050514.htmlA long caravan of trucks equipped with CBs cushions and flees large roaring metal insects on wheels wheels spinning eighteen at a time and dreams. Hartford to El Paso is a long way to go after prescriptions for the criminally insane after treatment and the forgetting of pain before the “howdy mams” and in between the meals 13 times she rode them blind while they rode her and passed her around.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050507.htmlSat, 07 May 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050507.htmlPast the mountain Aragats, Beyond fields of cabbage and potatoes, The mooing of cows, and the call of roosters, Amidst rocks and stones and dusty roads, Past twisted scraps of metal and concrete chunks Heaped on a winding path Near rushing water, An ancient church - Marmashen, Blackened with candle smoke and time, Stands crumbling In the coolness of moss And tall grass Bowing in the wind near royal tombstones.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050430.htmlSat, 30 Apr 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050430.htmlThe land where my people lived once was being shown on TV for its pristine beauty for having vast stretches of untouched nature and scattered remains of the ruins of an ancient glory. The fertile land that I was forbidden to touch the picturesque mountains that I haven’t climbed were being showcased on TV to encourage tourism and entice new peoples to settle the depopulated land My land etched in my soul with its rich heritage and history was on sale together with the enslaved souls of my ancestors.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050424.htmlSun, 24 Apr 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050424.htmlfor the 90th Anniversary of the Armenian Genocide by the Turks By now we should have finished grieving. By now we should have found some peace. By now there should have been atonement and the pain slightly eased. By now witnesses are almost gone. And the lies about our bones believed. By now they thought we would be forgotten. and our blood dried to dust and blown. By now they thought the smoke and fire would be either greened or stone.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050416.htmlSat, 16 Apr 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050416.htmlYou open your eyes ? A child with colorful dreams. The rays of the sun Make your dark deep eyes Lighter, brighter and take away Their adult sadness. Those were the last rays You have ever enjoyed, girl! The gunmen rushed into the room ? The sun turned into a cloud, groaning At your helplessness to understand? Oh, little girl! Close your big black eyes! Those taken away Will never be back again.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050409.htmlSat, 09 Apr 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050409.htmlVulgar sweet perfume in thick glass bottles And an aura of grey cigarette smoke Hazing the pale damsel; Strengthening her mysterious, black and white reign. Cold hands on the balcony with martini During Los Angeles hail with lightening And thunder. Transparent, thin bed sheets like nets that capture me; Leave me hers. Deceptive and lying; Hypnotizing with vanilla lovely, nicotine ugly breath. Her laced, colorless self with feet dressed in heels Emitting sagacious and shrewd intuitions With grace.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050402.htmlSat, 02 Apr 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050402.htmlI am the prisoner Of the barbed jail Of my own doing. My prison cell Isn’t the creation Of the Circus master’s Oppressive mind… It is the handwork Of square minded Robot like humanoids … Wow! What a pleasure Leaving very soon With my prison guard To the far away shores On vacation To recuperate From the stressful routine Like the enchained beasts Of the famous circus To move my forgotten existence From one country to another… No matter where the show goes The program is the same The metal bars And the prison guards too Nothing has changed from my destiny… During the short life span Only the spectators And the stage is changeable… The guards are closely watching Weeps on hand Leaning to my cage’s door…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050326.htmlSat, 26 Mar 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050326.htmlThe ghetto in Athens were I was born and raised has been torn down and paved over. The school in Venice where I was educated has been converted to a hotel. Even so, they continue to live in my memory and dreams. Canada, where I have spent most of my life, has so far failed to enter my dream world. From my days in Venice I remember Garo Basmajian, a pale sickly boy of fifteen from Marseilles who knew the PETIT LAROUSSE by heart and could identify a Rossini overture as surely as a Mozart symphony and a Beethoven sonata.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050319.htmlSat, 19 Mar 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050319.htmlExternal revolt is a way to bring about internal freedom? Jim Morrison No. It’s not the freedom, It’s self-satisfaction, It’s homage to oneself, It’s the whim of desire. External revolt? Who cares? Who worships? If the earthquake is here And you are not under ruins. Then what? Cigarettes in the cave? Empty bottles and hiccups after sunset? Rattling roofs and trampled insects? Overthrown thrones and bloody puddles? No. It’s not the freedom, It’s self-deception, It’s beauty in brackets, It’s a road “to graveyard” External revolt for internal freedom?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050312.htmlSat, 12 Mar 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050312.htmlPracticed trickle of bickering sickles Forge fickle theoretical nuances Oblivion or ovation, vivid vindication Verily weakened weightless wagons Circle sand dunes afoot horses Chirping Arizona’s sun burdens Dormant lament in thousand yelps Musically adroit chafing chaps Tailored suites of quarter notes descend To portend the entrance of brilliant Mazes of mended and sewn sleeves Held to a machined mountain Bellowing effervescent froth forms adscititious invitation To light collective madnesshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050305.htmlSat, 05 Mar 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050305.htmlI felt the heat of your lips in my spine… My body desired you- powerful and nihilist. I dreamt to have the tattoo of Eternity on my breast. I crashed the panes of the windows and wandered nakedly to seek my totem. I embraced the blue adagio of time… Over there I see puritans… At a distance fire, faces… Taboo… taboo… And a gray wolf. A wounded gray wolf. A howl… owoo…owoo… Blood in the snow…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050226.htmlSat, 26 Feb 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050226.htmlThey will definitely reappear among the brightest of the stars when the urge to discover blasts the dust of ignored durations. Humans only recently began observing the traveling light and gave them names of heroes from a legendary past soon the heroes and the stars were sold to the philanthropists with loved ones, not loved enough. If only there was some light In thoughts or even instincts You would be able to see, stars.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050219.htmlSat, 19 Feb 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050219.htmlThe anemones of my childhood bleed from downy stems. Their blossoms grow seasonless with paper flower speed, springing suddenly to bend and flow over their mossy bed. I bend to pick them before I go home again, dropping rootjuice red behind me in pink milk stains as if my footprints bled marking yesterday’s terrain. The anemones of my childhood bleed, scattered from their source like rain over the past where I retrace time that has become a place.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050212.htmlSat, 12 Feb 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050212.htmlPlucked her gasp from an azure dream The dancer is an incarnate song, alluring, She interprets a sublime mystery By her graceful stature of a princess. The soft tune breaks off the clouds And cracks suddenly like a thunder, Crashes indomitably, full of fire, Which burns feelings and love. The soft modulation slides again, Asking for caresses and consolation, Nestles on my chest with jealousy Unveiling lust and consummation.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050205.htmlSat, 05 Feb 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050205.htmlIn my dream, the men breaking rocks tell me the old man is crazy. I say, “What old man? None of you is over thirty.” “You know,” one says. “The Armenian.” I smile and light a cigarette. It’s true. Every Armenian I’ve ever known is old. The damn fools are born that way. I go to where the Armenian is working. I stand behind him and watch awhile as he steadily, patiently, breaks rocks.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050129.htmlSat, 29 Jan 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050129.htmlShe sent you nine love letters, nine granules, nine seeds from a pomegranate, nine warm teardrops melting in your palm - Unopened, in stamped envelopes they sprouted and grew long hair waiting in patience on your bureau, while you were in Europe, sampling the best schools, mingling with the best minds, the intelligentsia in Leipzig: Dear brother, in your eyes - an impenetrable night, how many dainty images are still imprinted?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050122.htmlSat, 22 Jan 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050122.htmlIn his monastic veil he seemed to be a black walking mountain. He was serious and used to sleep on a pallet. He didn’t like this-worldly noises and ran away from crowds. He adored pantomime. …Once I opened my palm and asked him to tell my future. He took my hand and drew to his lips. His look was mysterious and elegiac: ‘I am not a prophet,’ he whispered.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050115.htmlSat, 15 Jan 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050115.htmlThe wife was begging me To get ride of that ugly bunch Of awful fake flowers Planted in the old pot Resting not long ago Over the balcony’s White coffee table That had ruthlessly deceived A young humming bird I drove to the nearby Old Japanese nursery Bought some young violets To change the look Of east side balcony… I added some fertilizer To the dry gardening soil And with lot of pain Transplanted the flowers And suck them With my sweating And why not, A lot of plain tap waterhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050108.htmlSat, 08 Jan 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050108.htmlThere are moments in life When things cease to matter. Such moments are rare and valuable, But they cause the worst of the pain. When sun burns with its utmost heat, When you hold a hand And it becomes the most precious thing in the world, When the degree of despair is uncountable, Yet there seems to be no grief acknowledging it. Thus comes the solemnity of the most banal paradox- The intermingling of the purity with evil, Life with death, Scorn with excitement.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050101.htmlSat, 01 Jan 2005 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20050101.htmlAs we all try to look ahead Trying to focus further on We cannot help but wonder of yesterday Lingering for a moment In the experience of it all Will tomorrow be better? The ever present question Lying dormant in our subconscious Woken up by memories We try hard to capture Will the flowers bloom In the fields of our varied lives We remember the seeds sowed In the earth of our memorieshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041225.htmlSat, 25 Dec 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041225.htmlAccording to Tacitus, Tiridates I, the king of Armenia Went to Rome in 63 AD by land, refusing to pollute the sea. Robert Thomson, Harvard University On Vanatour on New Year’s Day, arise and bless the coming hours. On Vanatour on such a day the doors unlatch and deck themselves with winter flowers. On such a day King Drtad whom the Romans called the Magus, started on his journey west on his black horse sent him by his Mazdean brother the Parthian king, following the sun westward on his dark horse that trailed the year.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041218.htmlSat, 18 Dec 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041218.htmlLit like a spotlight, the moon directed attention onto the fast moving clouds of the dry skies. A cat was waiting on the top of the roof, for the perfect moment to hop on the moon. It was such a pleasure to watch the highlights focused on the naked curves and the openings in the clouds, against a background of dark blue, as they danced to rouse and seize attention without demanding a mandatory entrance fee or a minimum number of drinks requirement.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041211.htmlSat, 11 Dec 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041211.htmlPOEM FOR EVERYONE (Amenapoem) By Yeghishe Charents, Translated by Ara Baliozian PROLOGUE I - poet of Hayastan - Fogbound land Haunted by death - I now sing To all! I sing Once more But why must I sing alone? I, alone, and not they - Who lived through and overpowered These rough stormy days. Under the sun, in the dust. On foggy days dripping wet. They strive, combat, and toil In the grime of the soil.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041204.htmlSat, 04 Dec 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041204.htmlDays shall come and days shall go and like a leaf upon a tree we too shall fall and mingle with the soil. It seems that such thoughts occur more than once when Life takes on more shape and form, but like a storm it does pass until again we see another leaf fall from a tree. Once more, we wonder, What is Life? Just then, memories of long ago whirl by– “…it seems like only yesterday when we…”https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041127.htmlSat, 27 Nov 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041127.htmlI have never seen the sky with bursting fountains of bombing. I have never seen that parade of stars coming down on the night city. Am I considered happy after all? Or have I missed something important? I have never, never in my life seen wounded children. March 2003, Austria When chaos rains? What happens in the chaos? It rains? My space is mine, But I don’t need it As I am alone.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041120.htmlSat, 20 Nov 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041120.htmlDoomsday Vestiges Apocalyptic images, sickening grimaces, what planet is this? Homes burning, stomachs churning, loved ones yearning For the lost souls Terror Pervading Soldiers raiding, structures cascading, hopes are fading Symbols crumbled, bodies jumbled, humanity has stumbled Into madness A Nation’s Pain Deeply felt, fellow humans hearts melt Fear and dread, so many dead, a rage of red Runs through my head Those who paid with their lives today, I salute them.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041113.htmlSat, 13 Nov 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041113.html(Through DDS’s Symphony No 15) Prance in darkness, harness moon stream Rolled, ragged flaws, fuming mid beam Evolving, orchestral, Rossini interrupting Russian claws, streaking, fear covered Bristling, censored, sagacious steamed windows. Amidst official optimism State delusion of the proletariat Believing, shoeless, shivering madness Talent, escaping as exhaust fumes Doctrine chanting fur hats and Furrier brows on the vulgar river Floating fans in Vodka barges. Illuminated by floodlights Dogs with sentinels Joy of men perspiring Crima facie movements Framed in brass melody Heaving cello warnings Menace to reveal The secret of the farce But not its remedy.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041106.htmlSat, 06 Nov 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041106.htmlThis morning more than ever I am seized by an irresistible longing to speak my mother tongue. I search for an Armenian, any Armenian, with whom I can speak. If you understand this strange, irresistible longing, please help me. I would like to meet an Armenian, any Armenian, even an alienated one who has forgotten his mother tongue. Let him remember a single word only; and let our paths cross so that I may say to him: Are you Armenian?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041030.htmlSat, 30 Oct 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041030.htmlThe tawny autumn Is a flirting girl, Which throws away shirt and skirt And strips. Is it of hot? She opens her smooth breasts, Dainty legs, And her marble hips, Barely leaving A pale fig-leaf As cover… The breeze gusts, Heaves, rumbles bashfully, Sinning furtively… The tawny autumn in her puberty Is a flirting girl, And I don’t know Does she keep, or Throw away The fig-leaf? The lusting shy Does not look, Does not see…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041023.htmlSat, 23 Oct 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041023.htmlWith such unfathomable comfort And a prayer on my lip do I recall The soulful chants of your churches, My far off homeland! With a pain as burning as the silhouette Of my lover’s face do I recall - Your meadows, rivers and valleys, And the opulent fragrance of thyme - Submissive to a mysterious law My ears are still accustomed to long For the sound of your solemnly lucid Language - oh, so glorious.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041016.htmlSat, 16 Oct 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041016.htmlWatching the news in Istanbul I understand nothing; But the weather forecast is easier. Temperatures and winds in different towns, Names from all the centuries, From all the human layers, Of which the Turks are top. Mostly, if I know them, It is in their old forms: Sinope and Trebizond and Ephesus, Kars and Van and Erzerum. Greece on the west, Armenia on the east. And Constantimople straddling the two continents.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041009.htmlSat, 09 Oct 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041009.htmlthe pomegranate crushed underfoot is empty of its blood-red juice. careless harvesters do not know “unless a seed fall and die…” uninformed they stripped the land. one small field now is bare, but all the earth the blood received; absorbed the tears, the blood, the pain. blind marauders could not envision life springing forth, imagining it dead and gone. all-wise Vinedresser sympathetically tending sees; finally the soil watered with tears no longer red, but greening.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041002.htmlSat, 02 Oct 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20041002.htmlthese words I once typed. Your eyelashes opening the sun in the east pushing horizons like twin Alexanders. I love that night. (Should I say “loved”?) Now in your time I am as still as Alexander, but you reading open all boundaries like the conqueror moving east.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040925.htmlSat, 25 Sep 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040925.htmlI go down the stairs. The staccato of my high heel shoes Echoes in the lobby of your office. It’s raining outside. I turn over and notice your profile Behind the Venetian blinds. You are not smiling. The silence of separation is stretching between us. The amulet- You gave to me last summer. I was in my blue dress… Your fiery look was sliding down my bare shoulders. I will never be back (I feel it in my bones).https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040918.htmlSat, 18 Sep 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040918.htmlwhat’s the use of looking beyond the transparent glass when you cannot let your soul travel out and away from you, to experience the wildness of the forests, the infinity of the skies, the uncertainties beyond the first horizon. and don’t you look at me like that! I am not the one who can show you how! you have to give birth to your love within you! as for me, well I …https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040911.htmlSat, 11 Sep 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040911.htmlSergei sat poised always in the sable, sultry Los Angeles evening Whose benevolent stars sewn from ivory tulle were the only elements Which did not threaten to devour him His silhouette traced in grey nicotine residue His black denim clad aristocratic limbs Into the sweltering Southern Californian climate Into the soot colored composition of the night. Spliced with a silk georgette skirt, Swaying, rustling in the inconstant morning breeze A five year old frame sashayed toward a building, Where they taught me only to forgethttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040904.htmlSat, 04 Sep 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040904.htmlThough the weeds grow thorny, and spindly vines enmesh your tombstone, you are not forgotten. Today, we’ll pull the weeds and vines, toss them to the winds, then plant red roses to adorn your epitaph. We’ll sow a mantel of blue forget-me-nots to shade you from the sun, and trim it with orange marigolds– torches for a moonless night. And in the late, late autumn, when all has turned brittle and brown, you’ll not be forgotten.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040828.htmlSat, 28 Aug 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040828.htmlWalking through the rain Towards the sun, the sun in its decline ? Can you grasp a ray? Measuring the steps from home to woods ? Woods with no end. Murmuring? the dead leaves, River beneath the slope, Tender yellow flower drops In the brownish dry leaf sea. Can you hear the rain On the tree crones? Can you name the bird above? Its song is its triumph, Triumph of the nature, Alive over the dead.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040821.htmlSat, 21 Aug 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040821.htmlHave you ever felt like giving up, like you’ve had about enough, although your goals may seem so distant, you must remain optimistic… And I don’t need your help, and I don’t need anybody else, I will achieve my goals, and I’ll do it on my own… Working my hands down to the bone, as you can see, and I know I will succeed, Things may seem like there out of reach, but I’ll just extend my boundaries…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040814.htmlSat, 14 Aug 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040814.htmlThey feel safe here, behind these walls as they sit reminiscing, in silence - the seven of them, perched on antique rugs, saved from a Syrian desert. Wrinkles carve memories too atrocious. Have they forgiven? Nobody knows - they are whispering, as if in a secret world telling each other stories of gathering wool in the lost country of dreams and bread.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040807.htmlSat, 07 Aug 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040807.htmlMired in melodic madness Searching for a booth Zephyr garden pendants Planted in logic’s rotten tooth Hazing haunted scented trails led by glandular grandeur, Easing past despair Towards a reve folle. Innocent of all crumbs Drumming lustful revenge Mauve tangential excuses Perdition of granular loss Punctual reverberations Ebbing by notes fausses Charming violence quizzing Encrusted barbarous barricades. Davies Symphony Hall San Francisco 7-4-04https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040731.htmlSat, 31 Jul 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040731.htmlDid you bring me a handful of soil from the homeland, forgetting that it’s earth from the same planet as the American, not Venus nor Mars nor Saturn but only dark soil with its own minerals– the old kings and queens still meting out memories like party favors, the sisters directing the roundness of eternal bread, the brothers coaxing the seeds with unlearned plow and buffalo, the merchants mingling with magnificent ships?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040724.htmlSat, 24 Jul 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040724.htmlYou envelop me Your sweet smell Permeates in the air Hold me tight Yes Tighter Do you feel my heart? Beating Against your chest It is trying to reach Your heart Is it whispering? What is it saying? I lift my head From the warmth Of your embrace I look up You look down Isn’t this divine You whisper to me Your lips moving Without uttering much sound I do not need to hear I nod in sweet agreement Shyness entering my heart My lips curl into a half smile My eyes roll a look over your body Playfully Give me your hand I say Not with words But with my hand We do not need words Our gestures say it All Words would only Slice through This beautiful silence No It is not silent Here Do you hear The beat The beating of my heart Aching Longing To feel yours Beating Pounding with desire I am yourshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040717.htmlSat, 17 Jul 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040717.htmlhigh on the clouds there was this one droplet of condensed clouds, almost liquid, water it was, and as soon as the milkiness of the steam in it began to disappear, the globule started to see. And it was the first thing, the pear shaped pearl of water saw, down there high up on the very top of a tree a green leaf … this leaf was different from all the others, the ones on the same tree, and the ones on the various nearby trees.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040703.htmlSat, 03 Jul 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040703.htmlAs long as I have only one reader and even if that reader insults and curses me, I will continue to write. It has happened more than once that after insulting me for years some readers have apologized. If one brainwashed dupe can be deprogrammed two may follow. To those who accuse me of entertaining messianic ambitions, I say: A messiah promises a kingdom in heaven. I promise nothing but the recovery of one’s powers of independent thought.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040626.htmlSat, 26 Jun 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040626.htmlA young hummingbird Poor thing Flew all the way To the balcony Of my apartment On the third To imbibe the nectar From an artificial flower That I have implanted In the humid soil The day before When the lilacs in the pot Suddenly died… To their detriment, The hummingbirds of this world Will find out one day That man made flowers Beautiful no doubt Lack the feeling Or sentiment No odor no soul No need for pollination We shouldn’t come too close They might eventually With their subtle ways deceive The shrewdest among us And yet the worse They will fool innocent birds Without having any remorse…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040619.htmlSat, 19 Jun 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040619.htmlIf you put your large piece of pizza Back on the plate for a while, Maybe you will hear my words, Trying to penetrate into your mind. Maybe you will see the flash of my eyes, When I look at you, reading letters Sent once by me, so long ago. If you put away your glass of juice, I will be able to present you With an unforgettable taste of nectar, I will dance the taste of the spring And will turn into the summer heat, If you only put away your book for a while And take off that ugly hat, I will see your eyes more clearly And will smell your short brown hair Just before you go to take shower.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040612.htmlSat, 12 Jun 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040612.htmlA Poem by Hovhannes Shiraz Translated from Armenian by Knarik O. Meneshian Snow falls, flutters down like angel-wing feathers upon my mother’s grave. Snow falls, piles high like a tombstone on the distant grave. Snow falls, and God gently lays snow flake upon snow flake so that my mother, pained long ago by Life, will not hurt again. Snow falls, and turns to marble. God Himself carves my mother’s tombstone.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040605.htmlSat, 05 Jun 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040605.htmlWe no longer wear out our shoes; We somehow outwear them. Fashion, style… you know! We now wear out the highways, The tires, The airports, And even the seas, Face and belly and all. We have no nostrils For the scents of flowers; But we inhale Through nose and mouth All the fumes Vomited by cars and machines, Jets and rockets, etc…. We have come a long way Indeed.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040529.htmlSat, 29 May 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040529.htmlAh, but to find a strand in for the night Made with pains and glands to recover In search of a coiled fleshy rose–desire Camouflaged in pure abandonment’s pyre. Ah, but for the gliding strength of fountain tops The magic hour, enchanted growls Disciplined dancers with a flying chalice Ears bleeding with pleas for more farce, more prowess. There will be time for surfing and downloading That a click will ultimately reversehttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040522.htmlSat, 22 May 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040522.htmlInstallation by L. Bourgeois, 1999-2000 Trapped in a white dress of crochets I step forward to hold his thick arm. I am offered the blush apple tartness, served on a silver hook. I take a small bite. Juices trickle down my chin onto the bleached lace of my bridal dress stains of blood. Poison seeping through all inside my veins. He gently lays me down into the crystal coffin. Our marriage bed.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040515.htmlSat, 15 May 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040515.htmlThe rain, a green mask over Storrow Drive; the night, making a Rambrandt portrait of your face; the river, dark enough to be another lane; you, on the driver’s side; I, beside you, mis-reading signs. Was it last night? Last year? Last week? I was playing Mother, saying: fasten your seatbelt hoping you’d repeat the same to me. You explained: Accidents happen too fast for preparation. Enjoy the direction. Goals are what we need.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040508.htmlSat, 08 May 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040508.htmlIncoherent voices stemming from awareness require gratification right at this minute when the present is not realized. The result is this headache which you sanitize by naming it an ‘unbalanced state’ a hangover as if placing stinking garbage in a transparent plastic bag. You understand of course how different it is, watching the fish from the transparent side of her prison, when you witness the view, knowing well that you don’t have the right to see the animal in that fashion, penetrating the intimacy of her routine without her permission and just for that, she takes your casual glance, bewitches it into a gaze, your awareness lost, and with mesmerizing motions, conquers your consciousness, now you are in a most unselfish stage you want to give everything generously she rejuvenates and recharges her vitality feeding on your abandoned awareness, as you stare at her dexterity, until there is only .https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040501.htmlSat, 01 May 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040501.htmlSculpture by L. Bourgeois, 1996 Unhidden from the rest, in the daylight, the black widow sways on her eight spoke-legs unmoving the eye, a spy of some sort, she is weaving her silk net, spraying each thread with a pungent secretion from her moist canals - a sack of venom, using the ejaculate to attract the prey. A trained hunter, this recluse knows how fast her bait can work!https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040424.htmlSat, 24 Apr 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040424.htmlOnce there was, and never was, my grandmother’s stories began the way all Armenian fairytales begin: Once there was and never was, a village, at the end of the woods, a small village roofed with cranes and smoke. Once there was, and never was, at the roof of a mountain a village called Tadem, where everyday, a shepherd boy passed the house of a woodsman at the edge of the town.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040417.htmlSat, 17 Apr 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040417.htmlThe sun sank lower, As the train tracks curved, The day passed slower, As my thoughts they churned, The city had vanished, When my last breath was drawn, Though I still felt the damage, As I reached with my arms, I tried my very best, To snatch but one wisp of air, For I had been blessed, To catch one last scent of her hair, It’s strange that the flavor of last autumn, Still lingers on the back of your tongue, But how you can lose someone forever… I’ll miss you… so long.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040410.htmlSat, 10 Apr 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040410.htmlIf not calling you My little crazy girl Somehow will liberate you From the sense of guilt That our society has built In your sub consciousness. Then so must it be… That senseless action Isn’t a salvation Neither an option Which will no doubt Bring destruction To the fine relation That has emerged From the scraps of our past… Not calling each other Will not solve any problem Will not heal any wound Will only deepen our sorrow And stress our loneliness Will destroy the beauty Of this unique relation And will not make us Perfectly sound person…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040403.htmlSat, 03 Apr 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040403.htmlPruned War of Words Pare down a pear tree Compressed arid autumn fog An abandoned nest Sake Song Trained seal sing a hymn Drunken solemn vows of love Winter bears its claws Shinkansen Bullet’s blinding wings Winds of sorrow fire your strength Prairies simply end Kabukichu at Shinjuku Strictly reptilian Escapable ambition Running on running School Girls of Tokyo Subway or full train cell phones adorned with dolls New Kabuki maskshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040327.htmlSat, 27 Mar 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040327.htmlHe passes the places As others pass their years. He doesn’t keep diaries, He doesn’t take photos. This symbolic existence Becomes his daily obsession, He treats his own ‘self’ As a reflection in the rain puddle. Who can stretch a hand for help? Who can make his life more meaningful? If the birds stop singing, Will he become more unfortunate?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040320.htmlSat, 20 Mar 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040320.htmlYou asked: What flower blooms in winter? And you asked: What snow falls in summer? And you asked: What paper can never erase by erasing? Once in old Armenia there was (or perhaps there never was) a custom for choosing a bride. Whether the girl were pretty was not so important as whether the girl had pretty ways. And that was not so important as whether she had people who smiled the way your people smiled.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040313.htmlSat, 13 Mar 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040313.htmlIt is green, It is blue, Mixture of horizons In deep sky: They are your eyes in my sight. When I catch your glance It is the ether Where I get lost, Serene and peaceful And inviting as desire. It is warm… it is hot… I am breathless: It is your scent in my gasp. The moon falls And scatters gold dust: It is your hair on my chest.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040306.htmlSat, 06 Mar 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040306.htmlToday was a morning - to morning, Today was a day - to day, Today will come a night - to night, And you will be the only one Who has ever been informed And will ever be informed About such stupid and clever miracles As living, and dying, and smiling Because you’re yet the only one Who can watch my day and laugh Instead of crying and blaming myself For wasting the treasures of the daylight And spending the best years of life On dark curtains, endless row of books And innumerable calls from non-friends Who are aware of my hobby - conversing You will laugh, because you’re my own reflection In the mirror by the night table where I put All the things I need at night - pencils, Mug of beer, a thick book without text - blank, A telephone receiver and photo-album, And sometimes some medicine against headache You live in that mirror and laugh at my faults.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040228.htmlSat, 28 Feb 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040228.htmlI sit here Surrounded by your blood I did not know them last year But yet I feel so close You gave me life And while sitting here I am keeping that family light alive. How strong the feeling is That bond Which you taught us to keep Through your feelings Your kindness Your light Your generosity Finally, yourself…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040221.htmlSat, 21 Feb 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040221.htmlTranslated by Khatchig Mouradian It is raining, son, the autumn is wet, Just like the damp eyes of poor beguiled love, Go and shut the door, close the window too Then come to my side, let’s sit together In silence supreme. It is raining, son, Does it sometimes rain in your soul as well? Does your heart get cold? And do you shiver When you think about the bright, bygone sunhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040214.htmlSat, 14 Feb 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040214.htmlDo you want to go back to your previous lover? Are you serious about falling in love again with the person of so many years ago? All you have to do is to be friends with me, then become intimate a little bit and wham, or swish all of a sudden it will come back to you, and you will realize that you and your ex belong together. It’s not a theory it has been tested.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040207.htmlSat, 07 Feb 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040207.htmlWhen destiny Crossed our path, Stroked by your beauty The purity of your soul The brightness of your thought I, as a destitute lover Wanted to spend The rest of my days Adoring you As goddess of love To fly at your side In eternal blue sky… To be your companion In time of distress As well in happiness You could always lean On my shoulders And when you are Submerged in ecstasy When you suddenly feel Your heart will explode And your mind will blow From the tenderness Of my caresses And the touch of my lips To the unexplored curves Of your virginal And gorgeous body… I will be at your side For the rest of my life Adoring you!https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040131.htmlSat, 31 Jan 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040131.htmlSepia colors animate Vanquished vacant signs Resplendent needle threads Of discarded promises Made in haste before The unprotected intimacy That leads to the grave Warning sign language Of Jazz Not lacking in pizzazz Or sizable praise Beat by beat Drummed into A nation’s consciousness Hear it said Bled, fled.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040124.htmlSat, 24 Jan 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040124.htmlThrough the daytime light it seems tiny and full - the night turns its diminutiveness into a mysterious space - dark yet dimly lit, it resembles the chorus on the backstage - the important but modestly shaded component of the performance. The cosines of the streets acquires a special color - the color of night, mixed with the yellowish shop-windows, greenish pubs and different shades of the brown-gray. It has nothing of the brightness the big cities sparkle with: advertisement sheets, illuminations - simplicity of noble lanterns makes a touching composition with the full moon, or, more often, its complete absence.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040117.htmlSat, 17 Jan 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040117.htmlMy father in a storm of pigeons in San Marco’s Aquare points up, “Now look at those horses well.” His words bring back Browning’s Last Duchess. “They’er yours,” he says, “They came with Tiridates to Italy in Nero’s day overland, not to pollute the sea. Perfect symbols of our craft. They blend bronze with our tales of fiery steeds. “On such a beast Sanasar flew into the sun. Just how these four were planted on this roof is a mystery to all except tourists with Armenian blood.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040110.htmlSat, 10 Jan 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040110.htmlThere is a bustle in the air, a rattling, a soft commotion, clouds gossiping in espionage as Yerevan breeds quietly with gray - Could I be a spirit trapped in a statue, white covering my toes? Looking up - the sky is solemn, filled with easy dancing flurries that separate us - they condemn this marriage of fast melting heartbeats, brusque slaps on my naked face that sometimes hurt, especially the ones spinning the eye - like icicles from fairytales, so I ignore the laughing doilies that resist and stay, clinging to my bronze shield as surrogate drapes.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040103.htmlSat, 03 Jan 2004 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20040103.htmlDemocracy could also be defined as ceaseless resistance to fascism. Because fascism, in addition to being a constant temptation, is also easy. What’s hard is recognizing its signs and symptoms, such as: censorship in the name of some noble-sounding abstraction; ascribing one’s failures on foreign powers (xenophobia); exaggerating one’s tribal or national uniqueness or superiority by re-writing history.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031227.htmlSat, 27 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031227.htmlTransparent tiny water tank Shackled monstrous red lobsters Struggling to get out Unconscious of their fate… At any moment Following A plump chef’s order To be plunged Into a boiling pot Of salty water… To feed our hunger Reduce cholesterol To cut weight And as a substitute for aphrodisiac To enhance our sex life Man, it is so great You bet… To be a superman Ignorant of its own fate…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031220.htmlSat, 20 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031220.htmlWarping walls of sorrow Deforming memories of Ancient Cities That golden past - undefeated through faith Spit upon by fate’s random drawing masquerade We sing of hope and endless summer blossoms Hear our village songs embrace us for the winter Of dissolution, assimilation, deprivation Yet out children dance to Sayat Nova, sing of Gomidas And celebrate a hundred years past Khatchadourian With pride, reverence and Armenian Ararad. Survive or parish facing hoards of barbarians Unwashable, unabashed Survive or stagnate in a world of wonders And wicked winds of tempting scripted denials.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031213.htmlSat, 13 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031213.htmlIf your smile disappears one day I will lose the sense of direction And will switch off the sun I will stumble on the smoothest of the ways And will not wish to taste the sweetest of the honeys My steps will resemble the ones of a wounded beast My eyes will see the darkest pots in the purest creatures I will start passing out gradually Please, smile forever.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031206.htmlSat, 06 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031206.htmlI want to live, but not a lavish life wedged in obscurity, unconcern, simple-mindedness, nor an outright hostage of beauty aids as a frail creature, delicate and feeble - but equal to you, oh men, auspicious, as you are - powerful and headstrong, fit against calamities, and ingenious - with bodies full of fervor. I want to love, unreserved, without a mask - autonomous like you, so that when in love I can sing my feelings to the world and unchain my heart - a woman’s heart before the crowds ignoring the stern judgements with my shield, and destroy their prickly arrows with all my vigor unrestrained!https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031129.htmlSat, 29 Nov 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031129.htmlLet me take you in my arms And raise you to the sky, So you can play with the stars, So I can light stars in your eyes That will reflect in mine. Let me hang the rainbow From your delicate shoulders, Put my hand around your waist; Let me undo the buttons Of your flower-patterned shirt. Fired with wishes and yearnings To bend over your soft chest With the sultry and swelter of my love, To put a bond of kiss On your sweet and alluring lips.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031122.htmlSat, 22 Nov 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031122.htmlI can still feel her tears, For they are falling from the sky, This world cares not for me, So I say my last goodbyes, Its so hard to leave my dear, Because I love her so, And I don’t want to leave her here, In this hurtful world alone…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031115.htmlSat, 15 Nov 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031115.htmlWhen you are in love You are in an unimaginable state, As if you are in your mother’s womb. A feeling which you have experienced But you cannot recollect - To come out of it, to be real again, You have to go through the shock Of coming to this world, the pain of birth, You have to cry, and you might seek help. Your occasional smiles are wrinkled The sadness - does not go away, No matter how many lines are drawn on your face Or how many new meaningful relationships Or new friends you have made again.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031108.htmlSat, 08 Nov 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031108.htmlI was six weeks old getting comfortable in my mother’s womb warm and welcomed wasn’t sure about my sex – when my father in a council with himself decided to name me Shumavon :: My firstborn is a son no question about it he declared proudly stroking his black moustache. I turned mind disturbed how inconvenient! Then curling my yet-to-be-developed lips into a smile I turned out to be a nonconformist – precisely –https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031101.htmlSat, 01 Nov 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031101.htmlI can walk away from this place Abandon the glow of errors Perpetuating virtue in vague Divested cries of varsity. Money lending streaks as landing Gear for unwashed crevices Folded by the shadow of a skirt Molded to repeat rejections Embracing jaundiced juices of piety. I should walk away from this place See less, feel, press prudent pranks Serenade the abscessed derelictions Of Descartian restraint. Rapecious rigors reverberate Rustic crinkles effused by Pantomimed vestibule referrals To a thin blend of crusted Boardrooms and Barricades.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031025.htmlSat, 25 Oct 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031025.htmlDhour Shoueir(Lebanon), August 1937 Translated by Khatchig Mouradian Your pain unfolds from the past, oh light-shaded pine tree…Barely risen from the ground you have lost your maiden branch, the trace of which Appears on you dry and sprout as a broken arm. Then countless other branches succeeded it, And once they thought your trunk had grown enough Allowed your upper knots to sprout and thicken, and silently adorn themselves with transparent hair.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031018.htmlSat, 18 Oct 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031018.htmlBODY LANGUAGE Ideas too have a body language - the vocabulary they employ, the choice of clichés or their avoidance, their tempo and tonality… in short: to a skilled reader an idea can be as transparent as the confession of a guilty butler in an English mystery. MEAN WOMEN A mean woman can teach a man more about his vulnerabilities and limitations than a thousand yataghan-wielding Turks. If you survive such a specimen you can survive anything!https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031011.htmlSat, 11 Oct 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20031011.htmlI brought you down, But you kept with me, Pushed you to the ground, yet you have not left me, You help me stand strong today, I used to live in yesterday, But i am better now, You told me how i make you proud, you have kept your faith, And taught me how to appreciate, All that i have, And what i have been blessed with, And once i had felt trapped, But it was you that had helped me, I stand here today, all better and well, i don’t know what to say, except thank you for all the help, You have brought tears to my eyes, You have taught me to try, and how to live through, all my unlucky Red Skies,https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030927.htmlSat, 27 Sep 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030927.htmlThe leper - is on the loose, wears a mask beneath a mask, has slain the doe, eats away with blood-saliva dripping on the soil feeding on the roots, killing all the roots, the beast - a chimera suckles the flock with heinous milk, diseased with greed and avarice, will to power - the beast is on the loose - who will feed the monster, who will mate and breed with it, who’s gonna bear it in their wombs cancer-like, replicating, multiplying metastasizing into a deadly lock, who’ll stay behind these tombs?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030920.htmlSat, 20 Sep 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030920.htmlI want to sit under the stars And count the stars in your eyes. I want to pluck the petals of the flowers And discover the colors of your eyes. I want to perch in the garden And breathe the roses of your eyes. I want to walk on the beach And gather the pebbles of your eyes. I want to bathe in the sun And warm up by the sun of your eyes…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030913.htmlSat, 13 Sep 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030913.htmlPeople shout at each other, as if they know, what it is - justice. They try to prove to others that there exist many ways of problem solution, but they do not see the core of the problem: their own faults. People move stones from mountains to build houses, but they do not realize that roofs cannot replace mountains. People drink waters of the lakes, but one day the lake will dry, their thirst will become stronger.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030906.htmlSat, 06 Sep 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030906.htmlI am the astronaut Of the destroyed spacecraft Who traveled From one end of universe To outer space Looking for the planet Under who’s breast are kept The treasures Of our lost loves Aborted longings Tormented dreams Unbridled sentiments Unfulfilled vibes And violated innocence… From worm like beginnings To the chimpanzee As soon we stood On our two feet Suddenly With a vengeance Of superman We longed and craved For the cave.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030830.htmlSat, 30 Aug 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030830.htmlThey’ll stand there forever, you know, if we let them There are men standing there with knives and guns A rope Waiting for someone like me to walk by To walk proudly by, boisterously, confidently by I decide to oblige them I walk by I carry a knife and a gun and a rope with me They watch me walk by. They grind their teeth, they snarl, they watch me walk by My boots have heels, I seem taller I’ve a large dog with me.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030823.htmlSat, 23 Aug 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030823.htmlFrida Kahlo came, went Vent vet vexed Pranced, spinal tapped Mustache raised, rant Scant clad, wept Wet diagonal Diego Bubbles, Champaigned For the common man Mural maestro syndicate Crooning Aztec bird Of Mexican discontent Flame fed fete flared Slept with his or her Art collectors' Cheeks and checkshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030816.htmlSat, 16 Aug 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030816.htmlThe sky is more expensive here simply because there are too many windows. It’s no use, but you keep on trying You press the elevator button for the top floor, The lights will indicate that you are going up But down and down you will go Till you reach the temple of faith. Their prayer consists of rearranging the furniture, Until by chance, they will find the invocation, The furniture arrangement, which will please their Gods.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030809.htmlSat, 09 Aug 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030809.html(This poem is dedicated to my paternal grandfather, whose life has been a source of inspiration for me. He is a true survivor, a builder, a patriot and today he is more beautiful than ever). By Shushan Avagyan This was his first tree planted in 1936, after the Soviets allotted a piece of land in the city, after the collective took over his family’s house in the village, farmland and cattle, after his father was taken away as a kulak - the enemy of people Stalinists called, after his brothers’ exile to Northern Russia: an orphaned youth seeking asylum from the bloody hunt of a system gone wrong.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030802.htmlSat, 02 Aug 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030802.htmlYour moon is hanging I try to catch its blue light But it slips away. River is fragile Snow melts into the water It hurts the river You spread your colors And I perceive them fully You are perfect, God.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030725.htmlFri, 25 Jul 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030725.htmlThe summer is torrid of my hot love, Sizzling and scorching from my roasting passions; The sun has fallen into the forest of my love, And has started a ruthless fire. I am unable to distinguish your eyes from the sun, They are so shining with the flame of love, It is from my love that bonfires have erupted In the depth of your eyes with the heat of summer.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030719.htmlSat, 19 Jul 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030719.htmlShe tells me she loves me she is filled with lies She asked me how could I see I said through your eyes She ran away She went where no one knows her name she went to a place with less growing pains I never saw her again but times got worse I was blamed for her wrongs I was quite hurt maybe I should join her in a far away land maybe we could be together hand in hand where no one knows your name a place with less growing pains one day I will see it wasn’t meant to be yet that doesn’t bother me I have so much to lose yet so much to gain every cloud is in my way and I am drowned in Growing Pains.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030712.htmlSat, 12 Jul 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030712.htmlI’ve known mountains I set my sheep to graze on a hillside and climbed myself high to see what there was. I’ve once decided and told my whole family that I should climb as high as one man could to the peak of Sis and came back home not having reached the summit. I’ve built my home near a field below a slope afoot the breast of a mountain range called Ara.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030705.htmlSat, 05 Jul 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030705.htmlFrom an early age I silently carried My burden of lead Attached to my wings As an omen of destiny Branded on my forehead And also on my soul… I was so often Plucked of my feathers By those mortals Who refrained my attempts For a better life They have prevented My willful fly In the blue sky And my journey To the distant oceans To the distant shores…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030628.htmlSat, 28 Jun 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030628.htmlAlthough it is inopportune, And the doubt knocks at my heart, Yet with an inexplicit hope I cling to your promise That you will come… So I keep my lamp lit in the window As a beacon for the lost… It will be by the light of my love That you will finally find your way And reach my heart… My anxiety is pounding With the anguish of my waiting; I wish you to appear And deliver me From the swamp of hopelessness, Which is growing out of doubts…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030621.htmlSat, 21 Jun 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030621.htmlAt night, fanned by the light Of an African Moon Glistening instrument of splendor Make a lion roar While Aids devours the continent Chewing inside its rhythms Instruments of joy Partisan fractions Fumble fragrant futures Wind, string, percussion Strong hips, Execrated praise, Hosannas As prostitutes and babies default on their faults Gazelles run and lions race Witness Western Africa drown In the drought of UN observers Blue handkerchiefs and ineptitude Serving as their warning flagshttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030614.htmlSat, 14 Jun 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030614.htmlTHE SHE FOX (Sculpture by L. Bourgeois, 1986) resides on a pedestal sleek head at her feet - a decapitated hybrid served as if for sacrifice - her cold marble body attacked repeatedly with a chisel in deliberate stabbing fashion. Technically she has no face and yet she’s watching you through her four swollen teats - organic breathing fierce lonely in her unpredictable cosmos creator and destroyer and extremely soft - soft as the skin of Mother - Satenig.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030607.htmlSat, 07 Jun 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030607.htmlit is not beauty alone it is not the abundance of wealth it is not shared poverty it might give birth to gods it might grow on beaches it is more colorful than a rainbow it is indescribable it does not drip like blood it might seem untouchable it is definitely imaginable but you still always wonder if it ever exists the warmth the tears the jealousy the aggression the beautyhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030531.htmlSat, 31 May 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030531.htmlIf your smile disappears one day I will lose the sense of direction And will switch off the sun I will stumble on the smoothest of the ways And will not wish to taste the sweetest of the honeys My steps will resemble the ones of a wounded beast My eyes will see the darkest pots in the purest creatures I will start passing out gradually Please, smile forever…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030524.htmlSat, 24 May 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030524.htmlA hustler’s hiss hymn Havoc ballads of hovering apologies Modern median crimes Temperate tremulous clouds Diverging towards unsculpted keys Serenading barcodes scanned to oblivion Where cipher wheels scramble distress calls Till madness itself extends rented arms And man falls to pretend indifference Or solidarity with working wakeful Silent victims of extremal avarice Severed sand blasted mirage In ceremonial white silk satin soiled Undergarment draping tails of piano Action thrown overboard for a price.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030517.htmlSat, 17 May 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030517.htmlIn my quest You are pictured In line and curve… Line and curve… Line and curve… You are a shadow; In the softness I plunge… I plunge… I plunge… You like it to be Gently light, To see my paleness, Gently light… The purple of the evening Extends before me Like your arms, In purple, In purple… Save me So that I may believe in future, In my devotion… My devotion… My devotion…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030510.htmlSat, 10 May 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030510.htmlI feel like i was hit by a dozen bricks, my body goes one way as 1000 needles prick, A deadly rose stands silently, but its thorn slices violently.. You look like a flower too, but we dont know you are so powerful, sometimes I wish that we never met, but then my heart pumps up again… seductive leaves fall from the sky, as a tree, it starts to die, one by one they fall to the ground, landing softly without a sound… My feelings are something I never show, my little secrets you never know, I try to help by defending you, but then you tell me you hate me… I HATE YOU TOO…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030426.htmlSat, 26 Apr 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030426.htmlAre their pitiful shrieks still reverberating In the burned-down churches of Armenian towns, O Lord? Is their unclotted blood still seeping In the soil of our desecrated lands? Are a million ghosts haunting the very homes In which their physical twins were massacred, O Lord? Is the earth shaking under the feet of murderers And toppling their dwellings on their heads? Are the heavens raining fires to chastise Earthlings so blind to injustice?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030419.htmlSat, 19 Apr 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030419.htmlApril window invites judgment towards our pied past Haunting sounds of summers lost Hopes dug in bloody sand dunes of inscribed pride Endless chains of moaning caravans Melting into balls of fury for injustice left undone 87 monsters greeted parliaments in Europe recognizing Armenian loss Hands meager in destiny yet warm in culture’s clutch resound the denials Diminished returns of Kurd killing battalions flashing Western leaning pretences Endless in shame of lust for crusted victories over the unarmed and unwashed.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030412.htmlSat, 12 Apr 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030412.html(In memory of the one and half million Armenians who perished during the Genocide of 1915, perpetrated by Turkish Government.) It was April, and like angry waves upon the sea, they came! They stormed the ancient shores of Hayastan. When it was done, they slapped the rocks, returning to the sea. Though the shores were leveled with each sweeping wave, footprints in the sand appeared….https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030405.htmlSat, 05 Apr 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030405.htmlFruits Require Rainbows To ripe Rants Trap The mind Which forgets To rage Upon Betrayals Regrets Require Requiems To rest The resthttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030329.htmlSat, 29 Mar 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030329.htmlOh, in Armenia now Where spring downs Over rose pedals Along sidewalks where lovers Walk holding hands And duduk players Invite the bride to her New home across The road, and Mothers pray with Tearful eyes and Wish for a life better Than theirs- Oh, in Armenia now Where spring blows It’s sweet song Across the stones. Copyright © 2002 Varoozhan Froonzhanhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030322.htmlSat, 22 Mar 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030322.htmlNoon - the hour of observance - a yellow frenzy spreading over the neighboring hills - zourna bellows wildly in a coarse duet with the dhol, as dancing arms and feet form tightly knotted circles of loud human carousels. Enters the bride, timidly hiding her face in a veil, white and translucent, then successively - the groom - young man with rosy cheeks holding a silver dagger in his hand -https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030315.htmlSat, 15 Mar 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030315.htmlYou are beautiful Whenever you glide On the sea of my admiration, With your discrete and reserved majesty, Like the swan With soft and stretched smoothness, Rich with curvature And falling spiral… You drive me to seduction With your swan-like grace… My desires undulate In the blue lake of your words, Where my vessel swings By your caprice of Given and declined promises… It is the breath of the breeze and the lake Which blows with tender gasp, And caresses me charmingly…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030308.htmlSat, 08 Mar 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030308.htmlYou are trying continuously to reach for life and you don’t mind all the obstacles on your way. Some people admire your stubbornness, others gossip, that you are a failure. You don’t mind them, either. You scrawl on your knees, jump as high as your feet can lift you, run as long as there is a road ahead, with widely stretched arms, ready to grasp it - the life. Sometimes, of course, it passes by, unnoticed, because of your high speed, but the main thing is, that you believe in success.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030301.htmlSat, 01 Mar 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030301.htmlClouds of marble In shades of sunlight Define the skies To my heart. Leaves of autumn flutter Dancing between the sidewalks In the vacant roads, Despite the red stop sign Near the corner of the street. My soul is also dancing Like the dry autumn leaves Full of hope, love and magic, In a jubilant crowd it appears, But it’s a crazy, lonesome dance The dance of dry autumn leaves.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030222.htmlSat, 22 Feb 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030222.htmlYou talk to me of passion, Of lines dripping with desire, Yet nothing is left but ashes… I’ve rented to resignation The vacant apartment of Fire. With the candlelight of craze I never found tempests tender, But still loitered with limping days In the subway of dusty calendars. Do not ask me of Lust, Of ink gushing like semen, My words are still-born children Who’ve had no chance of dreaming.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030215.htmlSat, 15 Feb 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030215.htmlAccrued crust of varnished calyx Below a brooding brinksman’s pride Grapnel gripping girded gasps Prophylactic progeny’s cadence Or a precentor’s calumny in a demitasse A ravaged nation hemorrhages, defoliates An ancient language irreversibly diffracts Into pockets of arid echo prisms Encryptions nesting unfulfilled troubadours Tympani vexed mosaic repeating Unsyllabic monastic monodies in taste.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030208.htmlSat, 08 Feb 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030208.htmlof Armenian words, their 39 swords, their 39 favors, locked fingers in the group like 39 dancers. They’d never forget the songs like lullabies in and out of mountain crags, on pollinated afterthoughts, in the rain of chance, in the clearing after snow. They’d never forget the enchantment of candles stacked like stems with fire the flowers, fire the ancient worship of a simpler earth. Even the earthquake learned the 39 letters and all the words that spelled a fractured vista, learned the dances too, the chances of blankets, the trances of food.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030201.htmlSat, 01 Feb 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030201.htmlYour only name, your only sigh, Your hugeness fills the gaps of darkness. Your breath, like wind, will never die, On day of thunder, storm and lightning. Your palm will shadow from heat, Your eyes will give no sign of fear. With no reason to retreat The day will gently disappear. And creatures, out in the space, Will fly and reach the edge of Ever. The planet with rotating pace Will leave the universe forever.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030125.htmlSat, 25 Jan 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030125.html(To Maurizio Pollini’s rendition of Debussy’s 2nd prelude of book II) Wake wondrous, wicked and weep Stake boldly banal and bleak Ecstasy elongated, emergent, evanescing Incubated, advertised, origamied Uncelebrated, euphemized Jelly of gelatinous moonscapes Crawling, coveted, concubines Bathed in lascivious orthodoxy Headdress of puritanical redress Cream of bras and seething baby powder Rashes in red moist cavernous folded Dreams engulf the wanton John At the amusement park of oral Raindrops of destinyhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030111.htmlSat, 11 Jan 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030111.htmlI haven’t been there, I haven’t seen the kill… But I saw the horror In people’s eyes… I heard their mourning, I felt their pain, And their unbending will To punish the crime…. And it wasn’t just war… It was a genocide, Cold-blooded murder Captured in facts… Slaughter of kids and the old Slaughter of women and the weak Slaughter of a whole nation To own their land. I haven’t been there I haven’t seen the scene, But I have no respect For people who kill… Especially for ones Who don’t have honesty And live in denial Never confess…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030104.htmlSat, 04 Jan 2003 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20030104.htmlIt’s all around us, like a silky mist that looms, surrounding our Souls. the piercing pain in the pit of my Stomach, like pale eyes peering in my lies. the Acid that inches up, the Pulse that I hear, the Tears that roll, the Truth that I fear, this dread that I hold now I know, I wish, I knew, To be the change I wish to see. left there, on my knees, Elbows scraping the carpet, Hands over my Eyes, There is no world if I can’t see one.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021228.htmlSat, 28 Dec 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021228.htmlI am waiting For the heavenly inspiration To create this poem, To glorify this life, To be filled, impregnated, To have my thoughts realized, Like the unavoidable sunrises Which sculpt the light With rays Like my image… I am only a human creature With rationality, conscience, And infinite satiety… I remember That in the beginning was the word… I know from that That intellect Preceded creation… Therefore, the universe is not The result of contingency, Or a big banggg… But it is a cognitive creation, A wise ingeniousness, The way a poem should be…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021221.htmlSat, 21 Dec 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021221.htmlWe are a little bit of everywhere Local and dispersed Native and cultivated Armenian by blood and heart We are together Here In the middle of nowhere to the rest of the world But everywhere to us Riding the roads Turning the turns Reaching the obscured landmarks Of a stoic sliver of homeland We are reminded Loudly By the silence in the air That this terrain was a battleground Sacred and scarred and serene Our everywhere and nowhere and here To validate and embrace For as long as we keep Riding and turning and reaching For herhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021214.htmlSat, 14 Dec 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021214.htmlCreeping up the window of Eternity I just stole Joy’s virginity. Pour its Light into your glasses, And while the smoke of desire Is still rushing through my veins, Let my ecstasy, like a newborn, Drink right from the breasts of Victory… And behold! The neighboring roofs Hunched with envy Bear witness to my glory: Creeping up the window of Eternity I just stole Joy’s virginity…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021207.htmlSat, 07 Dec 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021207.htmlFlickering candles, burning bright, bowing with each breath of rite. Rising, falling, shedding tears so warm and soft that all too soon grow cold and hard as stone. Oh, ancient light of lights, bending with each whisper of beseeching prayers. To what avail are Sacred Rites, when like you, they melt into oblivion?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021130.htmlSat, 30 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021130.htmlMy life’s light dance partner Clicks her heels and stiffens her spine Wound like a spindle of love in 4/4 time And shuffles on Tango breaths and breaks bound us in brusque turns and dips towards the light fantastic, serpentine, sanguine With our hearts in Argentine’s Blue sky Tango blues Pink Flamenco and American esperansahttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021123.htmlSat, 23 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021123.htmlI fell, I got up I lost and I found… Of all certain things The most certain is doubt. ** Have pity on all, But love none, Don’t tempt men, live a humble life; There is no other path to a happy life. ** We are like feathers Fortune a strong wind That blows and snatches at its whim. ** To be on the safe side Avoid a dog’s front end And a mule’s rear end.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021116.htmlSat, 16 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021116.htmland the road led to nowhere since I was a wondering Gypsy and it happened during travel on the road from pain to pleasure I gave birth to two unruly spirits made of fire and water like a ditokous homeless mother. and I carried my offsprings with me, on the road from home to the desert, in my basket of dreams determined to shape both of them with the power and the discipline appropriate for the circus role applicable to the prevailing market trend, with the trick to win the most applause the feats that will collect more rewards, … an alphabet taught on the desert sand trampling over the rocks and thorns stepping onto the wilderness with bleeding feet satisfying the scorched earth with blood without admitting pain or sorrow, to overcomehttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021109.htmlSat, 09 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021109.htmlCan you save me From this cruel, cold world? Can you bear all the pain I have inside of me? And not be scared of all the darkness you will see? All of those hearts torn away and slashed into pieces… Can you repair my wounds without saying a cruel word? Or will you hurt me even more without looking inside my pitiful heart? Will you heal my soul and Will you help me grow?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021102.htmlSat, 02 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021102.htmlA broken typewriter two rolls of Tungsten film a newspaper with a photograph of the burning twin towers a City Lights publication of Kaddish & other poems a pair of bright yellow sunglasses in the red Polaroid case which i stole from my mother’s bureau [before i left her house] an old issue of Depi Yerkir and a box of Kotex tampons: all crammed on my brown folding table.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021015.htmlTue, 15 Oct 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021015.htmlThe Earth cries out in despair, With dreadful eyes it looks around: There’s so little left to spare, Who can be whipped for that or bound? If Beauty seeks refuge in garlands, Pretending blind, but badly wounded - Let not us hide in shrieking silence, Let not subdue to being hounded. Which of the senses claims forgiveness? When foliage dies, who buries ashes? Without smoke who needs the chimneys, Or stormy sea without splashes?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021001.htmlTue, 01 Oct 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20021001.htmlWith focused efforts In language, resonances Strung are left unsaid. Vulgar, profane friction Strings to bows Framed in fame, Fancy feet’n rags Nomadic notes prance Not free emergent joy But dominant, dormant lament Eight deranged drops of soviet blood Immersed in Jewish songs Cycled in ravenous applause Babiyar, bulbs strung high To brandish love’s triumph Over a Georgian Tzar. Stale in rhetoric Bear in a sterling grave Manuscripts march in man’s bugle Symphony to war and blight.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020915.htmlSun, 15 Sep 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020915.htmlI look at the faces around me, I sense the places in my heart, I feel the pain of leaving, I know that I must part. I am now at where I was, When I was nothing in the womb, I need to put my life on pause, Or enter the sacred tomb. Right foot in, left foot out, Left foot in, no foot out, Lay on back, figure out, Life’s end, no doubt.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020901.htmlSun, 01 Sep 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020901.htmlFireflies unbending Twinkle in the night, The murk is disturbing In a wink by the light. And even such fleeting But noble revelation Of light is becoming An unfading vision. The light is kind, is bold, The light is just and saint, It’s honesty untold And the sign unfeigned. The fearless are born To open new passes, To shine like a pharos Upon the uncharted seas. The heroes are falling But becoming new stars, That light reigns as a king From the Venus till Mars.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020827.htmlTue, 27 Aug 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020827.html[Latest News] SOMEBODY BLEW UP AMERICA (All thinking people oppose terrorism both domestic & international… But one should not be used To cover the other) They say its some terrorist, some barbaric A Rab, in Afghanistan It wasn’t our American terrorists It wasn’t the Klan or the Skin heads Or the them that blows up nigger Churches, or reincarnates us on Death Row It wasn’t Trent Lott Or David Duke or Giuliani Or Schundler, Helms retiringhttps://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020815.htmlThu, 15 Aug 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020815.htmlBzzzzzzzzzzzZZZzzz My Mosquito By Kevork K. Kalayjian, Jr. I woke up afterwards Naked on the beach, There was a swelling In the very bottom of my belly Lost in the pubic hair. “It’s not a dormant clitoris.” The doctor said, “You don’t need a sex change operation, It’s only a mosquito bite.” Ever since by birth My mosquito has been with me Wherever and whenever I am, From the dingiest restaurants to the most decorous bedrooms.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020801.htmlThu, 01 Aug 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020801.htmlThe sculptor dreams… then chisels at the marble stone. Beads of water from his brow drop on the mottled form. Leaning forward to wipe it dry, he blows gray dust from crevices and rubs smooth a jagged edge. Until… At last unveiled, the chiseled form becomes a theme and yet another dream. Knarik Meneshian was born in Austria, from an Armenian father and an Austrian mother. She’s married and is a writer and a teacher.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020715.htmlMon, 15 Jul 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020715.htmlWhat started with rose petals sprinkled in abundance onto joyful crowds of Armenian ancestry, centuries ago, in celebration of a saint - now, on a hot July afternoon, spread across the turbulent streets of Yerevan, metamorphosing into a wild pagan ritual of water, turned into a mystical ingredient, purified and hidden in tin carafes - waiting in the hands of stealthy adolescents for random startled passers by. Yerevan July 7, 2002https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020701.htmlMon, 01 Jul 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020701.htmlWhen the old fight, it is the young who die. When the rich fight, it is the poor who die. If it were up to the old and the rich to do the dying, we would have no more wars. When we are young, we are driven. When old, we wonder what it was that drove us. It is not easy writing for readers who already know everything they need to know, even if what they really know happens to be recycled mumbo jumbo.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020615.htmlSat, 15 Jun 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020615.htmlI set Armenian miniatures On a table before me, Their colors not muted by years, their shapes worshipping centuries. Their kneeling figures spoke to my fears, words they might have uttered not always teaching by treading lightly. The application of haloes was faded in scope but not in hues transfigured by their original approach. Reds and blues dominated and conformed to the brush as dark gold of haloes drew the symbol of circles.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020601.htmlSat, 01 Jun 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020601.htmlPiece by piece splinters of my heart are carved freeze dried, preserved, and displayed In the museums of ancient history, art and culture. So mighty is my past and so crippled my present That no one sees me, they talk about me as if I am ancient history, an irrelevant occurrence of a magnificent past. No one can see my bleeding heart No one can hear my deafening cries of pain As they cut me to small pieces, to preserve me…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020515.htmlWed, 15 May 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020515.htmlVaroujan The great Armenian epic, that was what I was working on. And when I would read segments to my students their eyes would fill with the deep secret of their past. It was like owning a huge gem we alone knew about. I polished it in a secret room. When the Turks hauled me out in April to my death they found the stone, still rough, and tossed it into the great fire.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020501.htmlWed, 01 May 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020501.htmlMy life has been a mess, I need someone’s caress. My life is passing me by, Without me caring why. I have been to the bottom of everything, and yet it seems like I still don’t know a thing. Everything in my life seems to be perfect, but yet when I look around… It seems like something is still missing. When am I going to find that one thing that makes our lives look so perfect and makes us feel so relieved?https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020424.htmlWed, 24 Apr 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020424.html(For the millions of the Armenian Martyrs of The Genocide) The torrential wave of blood pounds my chest, Stirring furiously from the depths of the desert, Rising from the dry sand, from the slashed breast of my holy mother, Wherefrom my orphan brother received his dreadful sustenance. Sustenance from the slashed breast of mother… Raped and ravished… Instead of the vivifying juice of milk He suckled the bitter drops of coagulated and suppurated sacred blood, The curse of the atrocious world for the mankind.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020401.htmlMon, 01 Apr 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020401.htmlAllured once more to the breast of silent pageantries, his old, weary eyes become radiant and wide as he kneels before his icon of granite and chips away slivers of Time in quest of Man’s How? When? and Why? Digging– Reaching deep into the cool darkness, his fingers touch a spearhead. Digging more– Reaching deeper, he brushes clean a dotted shard of pottery, a coin of King Hetum, and smiles.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020301.htmlFri, 01 Mar 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020301.htmlHow to write a poem in plane view Up 30,000 in the air Unattached to frames or bases Amid pleas for comfort and good cheer Food, drink and menus naming chefs Recycled movies on swiveling tiny screens Reclining outsize chairs in business class Amid pillows blankets and cookie crumbs Metal reinforced doors to the cockpit Stewardess, sparing in self-defense class Sweating bullets with the rest Men and women sporting lapel flags Recovering their lives From falling innocence.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020201.htmlFri, 01 Feb 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020201.htmlReading has become scanning Patterns already seen, unwilling To stir impulses to dwell or trim. But in music, condensed, uncorrupted, Participation soars unforced Floating aimlessly On ascending notes and streams Shutter through weightlessness In thought – famished and free. Evicting out of bounds Sanding down the ferment of rigid might To the might have been’s, revealed In shadows of forgotten trespasses searching for a path through the ringing sneers.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020101.htmlTue, 01 Jan 2002 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20020101.html(translated by Thomas J. Samuelian) Heavenly monarch, exalted king, Lord of all, hope of all, creator of the visible, establisher of the invisible, cause of being, shaper of the future, giver of light, impulse of dawn that prepares the morrow, who makes the evening appear and conjures the night, ingenious artisan, applied wisdom, blessed pardoner who liquidates sin, banishes pain, and neutralizes bitterness, preserver of tranquility, who induces slumber, arranges sleep, grants rest, who sustains our breathing, maintains our senses, dissipates our phantoms, moderates our imaginings, displaces our terrors, transformation of sadness, suppression of anxiety, dispeller of doubts, calmer of turmoil, who strikes fear in the heart of the wicked, and cuts down demons, wards off disease and drowns scandal, protect me with your hand that shaped the heavens.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20011101.htmlThu, 01 Nov 2001 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20011101.htmlThe entire history of Armenians In Fresno rests at the Ararat Cemetery; The good people, famous personalities, Unscrupulous con-artists, notorious characters. On Sunday morning, there is no direct sun light Shining on the memorial of the 8,000 residents Of the City of Chungoush, perished in 1915, Or the mass grave of the unknown orphans. There is no surprise at the young ages, Nearly forgotten names and familiar faces In the oval pictures on the gravestones.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20011001.htmlMon, 01 Oct 2001 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20011001.htmlHe marries the lilac from the Taurus Mountains. He marries the Cilician Church. He marries the snows of the Caucasus, and the Cossacks who will drive across his dreams. He marries waking to the sound of the thousand bells of Ani. He marries the blood sea. He marries the heart with two million scars to whom he owes a healing. He marries unretribution. He marries village music and red scarves flying.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010901.htmlSat, 01 Sep 2001 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010901.htmlRain, softer than a murmured song, Hummed in an ancient language, Remnant waves of Silenced Pain. Crane, news bearer Fragile as the thinnest crystal Yet free in motion Free in flight Distinguished perfectly In essence and by construction Mocking forces of brutality. Train, hurried motion on static tracks Uninspired repetition Slaughterhouse and desert skulls Gas chambers and scimitars The final solution. Vain, human perfection. Folly, incision As perfect as a Bleeding brain.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010801.htmlWed, 01 Aug 2001 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010801.htmlreal passengers are waiting. No, the anniversary poem is the mark of the teeth of the shark on the arm of the swimmer and the mark on the floating dismembered arm. And the teeth of the smiling Turk denying at the U. N. the existence of sharks. The anniversary poem is the flow of the river Euphrates 60 years emptied of the blood but still running over the stones in the mind of geographer.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010701.htmlSun, 01 Jul 2001 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010701.htmlIn the church hall, we sat at a table With folks that farm in the far reaches Of the county, between Parlier and Del Rey. Seldom seen, except on occasions like this, By their dress, it was evident They didn’t get into town much. Hampig wore a tie from 1940. His brother wore a brown belt Above his mid-section, short arms Resting on his chest, fingers interlocked. They talked to Garig about the packing-shed, That old walnut tree his father planted In front of the tarpaper house, near the road Forty years ago, when the vines were planted; The 20 acres of black Muscats.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010601.htmlFri, 01 Jun 2001 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010601.htmlThe red apple of your love, Of your lips, is ripe, Emblazoned with the fire Of my wants and wishes… Softly touched The doves on your chest Wallow Together with my heartbeat… I am breathless of passion… In front of my embrace Open yourself up To the edges of your love, So that I may reach you… The waves are carrying me, Carrying me to the depths, Swaying me down and up… The coast is fluctuating, Fluctuating up and down…https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010424.htmlTue, 24 Apr 2001 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010424.html‘…into a kind of absolute reality’ - Andre Breton, First Manifesto Next door is America, Washington D.C., the Mall is where they chase me down yelling `That one over there, the last of the Armenians! Rape her, crush her in a coffin, bury her alive with the rest of them’ It’s like a cabaret; a plethora of Turks with arched swords, and red fezes sitting awkwardly on top of their heads, attack me.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010401.htmlSun, 01 Apr 2001 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010401.htmlYou choose exile; Exile is not a fruit that grows old And falls from a sad yellow tree. Exile is not a manna that falls from the sky… No matter how much it wears out, You feel that it is renewed in you and you feel it sowing seeds in your eyes. ….. Exile opens new roads, New untidy chambers, Rooms filled with dirty plates, And badly ironed shirts, An empty can of caviar!https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010201.htmlThu, 01 Feb 2001 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010201.htmlWhat is it that conjures up feelings of longing every time I hear a song, whether it be of a flower, a poplar, or the mountain Ararat, and extends beyond its realms of intermingled rocks and fields and lacy, rose-toned walls to penetrate my senses – not allowing me to bend and blend? Although not from its realms, I am of it. Knarik Meneshian was born in Austria, from an Armenian father and an Austrian mother.https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010101.htmlMon, 01 Jan 2001 00:00:00 +0000https://ann.org/tlg/tlg-20010101.htmlFor the inaugural posting of The Literary Groong, we’re honored to have a poem to share, directly from Diana Der Hovanessian. A Fulbright professor of American literature at Yerevan State University in 1994 and 1999, she is author of 17 books and has published in American Scholar, Poetry, Harvard Review, Nation, Paris Review, New Republic, and her poetry is regularly published in the Christian Science Monitor. She has awards from the Columbia Translation Center, P.