Դուն Էն Հուրին Իս

floating gracefully upon
the pluckish tendrilities
the babbling brookiness
the very armenian kanun
the effortless emanation
from marianna's heart and soul

i am there, in hayastan,
in amberd, at saghmosavank,
nowhere near yerevan
in the small villages 
just imagining, channeling,
our tarn upon tarn
centuries older than old
sacred spirit vibrating 
in our very genes

february 12, 2026 

 

a syrian feature fiim

working
grading somethings and 
listening, background 
youtubing... you know

a few hours of shajarian
then randomly udi boghos
a fasil here or hüzzam
hrant, sayat, and tatyos
uşaklı, the kızzy one
neither tahir or there

and then...
it became poetic 
something you sing
that you sing real good
and i just paused
as my soul drifted
in ethereal currents
headed in your 
general direction 

it's life you know

you texted a very 
simple thought
"it's life you know"
i started to type
and backspace and 
type and delete
again and once more

then...
i just stopped
just sat there
with nothing
nothing to say
nothing clever
no insight
no whimsy
certainly nothing
deep or profound
nothing at all
to convey

i just sat there
the sound of
one mind
doing nothing
idling, stalled
on the bay of
eerie tranquility

"it's life you know"
i guess i do
maybe the best 
poem i ever read

 

stream of subconciousness

maybe, probably,
no... for sure 
this isn't the can
    of slimy worms, nightmares, 
    dreamy dreams
    snails, spiders, leeches
    fluffy plush cumulus
    lovey doveyness
    stalking leopards, gazelles, 
    warlords, liberators
    swords and plowshares
    and any number of
    scary primal 
    suppressed urges
that i want to open

stream of unconciousness

a blurry of thoughts
while gently adrift in 
the independent sway
of shallow emotions
lapping in counterpoint
to the tidal swell of this
    the demotive sea

vortexting

poeming while
vortexing in this
frozen suburban
misplaced tundra

can't help but feel
my inner zhivago
over and over again
in this bleak new age
more bleak and lonely
in this glorious cold 

scribbling verses
    well... 
    taping on a keyboard
trying real hard to
write something
profound, impactful
world changing
but no chance 
of that today...

 

just stupid enough

this thing
this thing we have
this beautiful thing
this friendship
this deep platonic
connective bond
forged in our 
minds and souls
rooted in our
past and future 
incarnations

this wonderful thing
can never ever, uh-uh
no way, ever become
you know, carnal
but, hey, i am just
stupid enough to...