Vahe Arsen | By the path of the lost sun
TOWARDS YOUR INSOMNIA Midnight stands like a soldier waiting for the war’s end, a dream within a dream in thick night air that catches fire and blazes suddenly, not seeing its twin. I was there hurrying toward your insomnia under the crackling clay of the roofs, with the city a whitening star in my palm....
Diana Der-Hovanessian | Selected Poems
THANKSGIVING “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...
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